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#they’re never going to get that time back
ceilidho · 10 hours
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 8)
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7
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Now a nocturnal animal emerges into the daylight hours.
A week becomes two and your shoulders untense. It’s not something you notice at first because you’re used to an ever present strain between your shoulder blades and an ache in your jaw from grinding your teeth at night. Then a fortnight goes by without so much as a missive with your name on it floating across John’s desk or a stranger appearing in town after tracking you down, and you wonder if maybe the world really is big enough to hide in. 
It sure feels that way at times. The woods beyond the bounds of John’s property stretch out farther than the eye can see and even walking it feels like you could disappear into another realm. Old spruces shoot up high into the clouds, and deeper into the woods, huge rock formations grow more and more prominent as you near the mountains. John takes you through the woods on horseback, following the rough trails carved into the dirt by a century of wagons and carts using the same path. The footprints of a different time. 
Up in the trees, birds warble and chirp, talking to one another in songs that you’ve never heard before. A woodpecker drills into the side of a tree. Pinecones snap out of the upper branches and drop to the forest floor. 
There is only a single trail and it’s easy to lose. You grow a bit nervous when John takes you off the trail and deeper into the woods, but he does so with the confidence of a man that knows these woods like the back of his hand. You go quiet when he stops Buttercup to let a herd of deer wander by, the stragglers hurrying to catch up with the group, throwing the two of you nervous glances before they disappear into the thicket. 
“Should we be out this far?” you ask in a whisper, reluctant to disturb the silence. Though the woods are full of animals that bleat, chirp, chatter, and hoot, the sound of your own voice feels preternaturally loud and shrill. 
“We won’t get lost, darlin’. I know my way around,” John reassures you, curling an arm around your waist to hold you to him. These days, you hardly worry about tumbling off the horse. Not with him at your back anyway. 
“That wasn’t really my worry,” you mumble, trailing off.
“Then what’re you getting all worked up about?”
“Aren’t there wolves out here? Or bears?”
He snorts, the sound making you jolt. You don’t topple over because he has such a firm hold around your waist. “They don’t usually come this close to town. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”
“That sounds like something mothers tell their children to stop them crying,” you say flatly. You draw your legs up automatically when John directs Buttercup through a shallow basin, a shortcut back home. It makes you anxious for a moment, but the water barely goes up to her ankles, so you relax when you realize that you’re in no danger of being swept away by the current.
“That doesn’t mean a bear or wolf can’t wander by, but it’s rare.”
“And there it is.”
You can feel the heat of his glower on the back of your head. “We could spend the night out here if you want to see for yourself.”
At that, you shut your mouth. Even if he were to prove his point, you have no interest in camping out in the woods now that you’ve become accustomed to the luxury of a soft bed. Granted that you’re forced to share that same bed, still you’ve never slept half as well as you do these days. You wake up rested after nine hours of blissful shut eye, a sleep so deep that your dreams only come in half-remembered flashes. Often they involve the man you wake up wrapped around, and for that you’re grateful that they remain submerged. 
A new desire has started to burrow its way into the back of your mind in recent days. It starts out as a thought so brief that you hardly notice it before it skitters away. 
And then it lingers. 
You wake up in the middle of the night hot, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and a fire burning in your loins, a red-hot coil wound around itself, fit to burst. Pulsating. At some point throughout the night, you must have thrown a leg around John’s waist because it rests there now, your hand planted in the middle of his chest and your sex all but rubbing up against his thigh. Under your hand, you can feel his heart pump strong and steady.
You hold very, very still, waiting for him to wake. But John sleeps on, his palm loose where it rests along the curve of your hip, fingers curling into the flesh of your backside. 
You can hardly look at him these days without shaking. You’ve come to fixate on the sway of his hips when he walks and the flecks of silver in his beard. The grooves in his weathered hands. The way your head fits in the palm of his hand when he cradles it to his chest. The fond glimmer in his eyes that shines the brightest when he puts his hat on your head and it slips past your eyes, too big for your head. 
When you tip it up in order to see, the folds around his eyes become more pronounced with the force of his smile.
“There you are, bug,” he says, taking the hat off your head to set it back on his and reeling you in for a kiss. 
Bug, love, honey, darling. The constant flux of endearments makes your head spin. John never calls you by the name on your marriage license. It’s like that name means nothing to him, cast away at the first opportunity and replaced by an endless stream of pet names.  
He hasn’t touched your sex since making you come on the porch swing the week before. He pulls you into a chaste embrace at night, the only evidence of his own desire being the stiff shaft nestled against the small of your back in the early morning hours, which he takes care of on his own in the bathroom downstairs after pressing a kiss to your cheek. You feel robbed of something, though you don’t know quite what. 
You’re tempted to offer your help, but you don’t know exactly what that would entail. Inexperience and fear of rejection hold you back, stay your tongue. In the two weeks you’ve been married, he hasn’t once tried to pin you down and rut between your thighs like you expected and dreaded that very first night. 
Now that that time has passed, you don’t know how to initiate that moment again. 
John promises to teach you how to ride a horse. You can’t see a reason to protest, much to your chagrin. Despite your apprehensions, even you can’t deny that it would be a helpful skill. A train only goes one way after all, confined to a single track. A horse has no such laws to obey.
The thought stays nestled at the back of your mind as the days continue on.
You flounder around in the kitchen on the day that John invites his deputies over for supper. You’ve met the big one—Simon—now a small handful of times, each encounter marked by a silence that sucks the air out of the room when he turns his gaze on you and holds it. Perhaps you’ve simply ascribed too much importance to his person, given that every time you’ve seen him, your life has changed irrevocably. His presence is always followed by revelation it seems. The archangel of vicissitude. A harbinger of uncertain times.
The other two are new. John introduces you to them when you bring out the cutlery and crockery to set the table, and you nearly go cross-eyed when they reach across the table at the same time to offer their hands. You go to meet them halfway, but flinch when John brings his hand down on the table with enough force to make the silverware jump.
“Sorry, darlin’,” he apologizes to you first before turning his glare on the other two. “That ain’t proper, boys. You wait for the lady to offer her hand first—you don’t treat a woman like she’s a mutt you’re teaching to shake.”
“Ah, sorry, hen,” the one on the left says, his voice a thick Scottish brogue like a purr. He’s possibly the handsomest man you’ve ever met, but there’s something dangerous and wild in his eyes. When he smiles, it curls up in a roguish sort of way that makes you falter, like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. “Dinnae mean to offend. No’ often we get ta meet such a pretty lady.” 
“Sorry—” the one on the right apologizes in a voice far more earnest than his counterpart’s. “And sorry for him. We think he was raised by wolves.”
“What’s yer excuse then?” the Scot sneers, knocking his knee into the other man’s under the table. “Dinnae see ye waitin’ for her fuckin’ hand like a gentleman—apologies, hen.”
“Christ,” John sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. 
Simon stays silent at the other end of the table, but the whole table jumps when he aims a kick at the Scott’s leg. He hisses and blurts out a word in a language you’ve never heard before, the word unmistakably vitriolic. He clutches at his shin and shoots a nasty look at Simon, though he doesn’t make a move to retaliate. 
“Name’s Kyle. Kyle Garrick,” the other introduces himself, and you finally reach across the table to offer your hand. His hand is warm against yours when he takes it, dark skin burnished in the candlelight. There’s something inviting about him; something about his eyes, so dark that you almost fall into them. Thick lips curl up into a smile. “And this here is Soap.”
You frown. “Soap?”
The man in question runs a hand down his front, emphasizing the cut of his shirt and the way it clings to the muscle of his chest. “‘Cause of how well I clean up.”
Simon barks out a laugh at that. The sound comes so sudden and sharp that it startles you. “You got it ‘cause your mum had to wash out your mouth with soap.”
It’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him and you can only stare wide-eyed at the lot of them as they dissolve into bickering and squabbling after that. It’s almost a relief to head back into the kitchen to finish cooking. 
Dinner is a similar messy affair, punctuated by the sound of Soap practically gnawing the meat off the bone. He only apologizes when John barks at him for making a mess, more food on the floor around him than on his plate, but his table manners don’t last very long. John doesn’t seem so much embarrassed on their behalf as annoyed, but it’s an annoyance that comes with an aftertaste of warmth. You can tell without asking that they’ve known each other for years. 
There’s room enough in you for food and envy. Back home you had friends. Never close friends, but acquaintances at least. Maids you could recognize by face. Small talk while ascending single-file up the servants’ staircase. Perhaps little more than that. You’d never been particularly close to any of them, but how could you? You worked from morning ‘till night, up and down the stairs, moving in the shadows. Never making too much noise lest your employers take notice of you. 
Like he did.
You shake it off. That’s no matter now. You’re hundreds of miles away and living under a new name. A married woman, to the county sheriff no less. It only sometimes hurts your heart to think of how lonely you’d been. 
When they leave, you stand at the window and watch as they disappear into the black of the night, Simon at the front of the pack, his torchlight leading the way. The sound of horse hooves beating against the dirt recedes the farther they get. 
His hands warm your shoulders. You don’t know how long he’s been there, standing behind you while you stared out the window after the boys. All you know is that his hands are warm, and the kiss he presses to the back of your head makes you arch back into him, unconsciously gravitating closer to him. Needing to be near. 
In bed, you curl your fingers against his chest. On a rough exhale, you wake. You dream still of something terrible that happens somewhere else, in another city, in an old life. His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep.
John takes you to the local seamstress to have you fitted for a pair of pants and suddenly you’re out of excuses. They fit you comfortably, like a second skin, and you find yourself pulling at the legs at your final fitting as if to stretch out the material. The seamstress nearly jabs you with a pin and glares up at you until you stop fidgeting. 
You come to terms with it when he brings you into the stables and makes you fetch the saddle from where it rests on its stand. It’s heavier than you expected. You stumble back over to where John now has Buttercup standing in the middle of the stable, holding her by the lead fixed to her bridle. 
“I don’t know if—” you start, trepidation climbing up your chest until it grips you by the throat. For as many times as you’ve ridden her, you’ve never done it alone. 
John fixes her lead to a post and walks over to you, taking the saddle from your hands and letting it drop to the ground. He cups your face in both hands to tilt your head up. “Hey, honey. We’re not doing much of anything today, alright? Just a walk around the paddock so you get used to sitting on Buttercup on your own. I’m not gonna smack her ass and send you down the trail at full tilt..”
That gets a laugh out of you. “You promise?”
He smiles. “Promise, darlin’.”
And he keeps it. The only thing you do that day is learn how to tack a horse and how to properly mount and dismount her. The latter part of the lesson is devoted to you trying to find your balance while John leads the two of you around the pen at a leisurely pace. He calms you down when he sees you grow too stiff, stopping to coo and rub your thigh until you gradually relax. It’s heartwarming until Buttercup begins to tense up too for a reason unbeknownst to you and you watch in righteous fury as John calms her down the same way.
John gets you a hat to keep the sun from beating down on you, but there’s little he can do about the soreness between your thighs and the stiffness in your legs the next day. All you can do is hiss and moan in pain, hobbling around the house until he forces you down into a chair and hikes up your dress in order to apply an arnica salve to your inner thighs. 
It’s a relief and an affront at the same time. The duality of man. The salve soothes much of the ache, but you twitch nervously around John for the rest of the day, the memory of him pinning you to the chair and forcibly spreading your thighs haunting you. The lingering ache in your core is just the salt in the wound. 
It rains another day. A light drizzle while the sun is still out.
Every day you sit and you think, will it be today? And then the wash basins are emptied out in the field, the horses are taken out to the paddock, you pin the laundry up on the line to dry, and John presses a farewell kiss to your forehead when he leaves you with Kate and nothing happens. Every inch of you waits for more, anticipates more. Throbs when he leaves you wanting, only a chaste kiss and a squeeze around your waist before he’s off. 
You can feel it coming to a head. An itch you can’t shake. 
That day comes with another ache you can’t shake. 
“Please,” you beg, clasping your hands in front of you. “One day of rest. That’s all I’m asking. I can’t do this anymore, John.”
John snaps the lead in his hands. “Let’s get a move on. We’re burning daylight.”
You hang your head low on the march over to the stables, John taking up the rear like he expects you to bolt. An executioner’s walk. The thought of escape has never seemed further away—not even because of its feasibility, but because all you want to do is lie down and rest.
“You can quit your moping,” he says as you tack up Buttercup, a pout on your lips. “Got something special for you today.”
That makes you perk up, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t specify what that is. Anticipation mounts in you when he helps you up onto Buttercup and then climbs up behind you himself. He steers her away from the paddock and towards the trail leading into the woods, the sun at its zenith now, illuminating everything as far as the eye can see.
You’ve ridden this trail before. A week ago, with John at your back as he is now. Through the fields and over the hills until the trees start to number in the tens and then the hundreds, no clear delineation between plain and forest. Simply there and then everywhere.
By now, after hours of sun beating down on the path, the trail is mostly dry, yesterday’s rain long since having sunk into the earth. You think it’d still be a tough hike on foot, but on horseback you cover acres of land at a brisk pace, Buttercup hardly breaking a sweat. You cross paths with a small group traveling by horse and wagon, but John breaks off from the path not too long after that, steering Buttercup deeper into the wilderness, where the only gullies are the ones carved out by years and years of rainfall. 
You only see it when the land begins to dip and you’re forced to hold onto the horn and tighten your thighs around the fenders to keep steady. At the bottom of a hill, a small stream opens up into a larger river, narrowing out at the other end where the land rises again and the water can only trickle over the pebbly riverbed. On the other side, a rocky outcropping cuts the stream off from view.
“Is this where you used to come to bathe?” you ask, recalling an earlier conversation.
John sighs. “Thought I’d take you for a swim as a treat, but if you’d rather just tease me—”
“Well now, let’s not be hasty,” you say, already trying to dismount on your own, eyes glued on the stream glimmering in the sunlight. John chuckles, keeping you pressed to him until he guides Buttercup under a tree for shade and dismounts first, helping you down after him. 
All you want to do is wade in the stream up to your ankles, so that’s what you do. Boots kicked off, Buttercup relaxing in the shade of a tree, John standing by the water’s edge with his hands on his hips and watching you tiptoe over the smooth rocks below. You roll up your pant legs, but eventually you feel the ends grow damp as you venture farther out. At its deepest, you would probably sink up to your waist.
“Don’t you want to swim?” John asks from somewhere behind you.
You splash around a bit, kicking your feet through the water. “Hard to do that with clothes—”
When you turn back around to face him, your eyes dart down momentarily at the sight of skin before you squeak and whirl back around, sending up an arc of water. Twice now you’ve seen him naked. 
“You’ve no clothes on,” you state, bluntly enough that it almost sounds stupid. 
You hear the water splash and ripple when he takes his first step in. “Right—you better think about doing the same if you don’t want to ride home soaking wet.”
“I was perfectly fine just getting my feet wet,” you say indignantly.  
“We came out here to swim, not get your feet wet,” John laughs. You stiffen when his hand comes down on your shoulder, conscious of the fact that your husband is standing right behind you, entirely divested of his clothes. “So best get to steppin’.”
“You can’t make me.”
“Oh, honey,” he says pityingly. “Yes, I can.”
You squeeze your eyes shut as you make your way back to shore, careful not to allow yourself a glimpse of him. Your boots are stacked beneath the shade of another tree, John’s clothes folded neatly beside them. You strip slowly, attentive to the world around you; though unlikely, it’s not impossible that someone might wander by. Your only consolation is that John is still within sight, though you keep your back to him because in recent days, you’ve developed a hunger for him that even now makes your stomach hurt.  
Though the air is warm, you shiver. When you turn around with your arms crossed over your breasts to hide them from sight, you find John wading in the river up to his waist. You’ve seen him like this once before, the hearty body of a man in his prime. Sturdy and strong. The hair on his chest is darker than that on his head, wet too from the dip he must have taken when your back was turned. His hair is slicked back too, a wet hand combing it back. 
“Come on, darlin’,” he calls, beckoning you forward with his hand.
The water is a cold shock when you step in past your ankles. Ice cold tendrils wrap up your legs, sucking the warmth from you. 
You suck in a soft breath when he pulls you into his arms and heaves you up, big hands gripping under your thighs. Your breasts press against the wet skin of his chest, nipples already pebbled. The river is deeper than you assumed; John pulls you deeper in until it pools around your waist and then your chest. Cold enough that you shiver until John dips his head down and the kiss he presses to your lips melts you from the inside out. 
You can’t escape the intimacy of water-slick skin. When John drags you up his chest, your nipples brush over his and the shudder that passes through you is violent, toe-curling. You know that he can feel the heat of your core even underwater. With your legs wound around his waist, every inch of you is plastered to his front. Even your fingers play with the ends of his hair, arms draped over his shoulders. You can’t look away.
“C’mon,” he murmurs, breath hot on your face. “Eyes on me.”
As if you could look anywhere else. 
He reaches down under the water to readjust himself and you gasp when his shaft is suddenly right there, trapped between his belly and your heat. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to coitus, his glans nestled between your folds. You’d only have to shift slightly for him to slip right in. The thought makes your breath quicken. 
He doesn’t make a move to take you though, even knowing that he could. How easy it would be. How it’s due to him. Your husband that’s waited a fortnight to take you as his own. John kisses you until each slick pass of his lips grows sloppier, clumsier—his lips barely parting from yours before they’re on you again, rendering you a creature of base needs. 
But his hands don’t shift from your backside where he holds you in place. His fingers dig into the flesh hard enough to bruise, but they don’t move to part your folds to make room for his manhood. You expect him to—practically yearn for it and squeeze him around the neck all the harder when he subverts your expectations, doing no more than letting you grind your heat against the base of his shaft. 
“John—John, please,” you beg, mindless for what. You don’t know what you’re asking for. 
“What d’ya need, darlin’?” he asks into your mouth, stealing your answer with another kiss. 
You fall under the swell of another wave. When the root of his cock glides over your clit, your core clenches on nothing, a sob half-bitten off in your mouth, ripped from your chest. 
It doesn’t matter how close to him you get—he gives you nothing. The heat could very well burn you from the inside out. Cold water caresses your skin as it flows past, but the center of you runs so hot that you hardly notice it. 
When he hikes you higher up against his chest, you clench your fingers in his hair, whining when he takes your nipple into his mouth. Your gasp comes out sharp and hurt when the coarse bristles of his beard rub rough against your breast. He sucks at your breast tender at first, gentle, eyes half-lidded like his mind has gone somewhere else, but there’s a glint in his eye that grows wild and dark, that turns him rough. You don’t know what to do except shake and let him use you how he wants. 
Desperation nips at your heels, urging you up the length of him. If you had more nerve, you’d reach down and grasp him under the water, notch the head of his member against your sex and sink right down on him. You need him like you've never needed anything before. Every part of you aflame, searing hot under the sun at its highest point; right overhead, right on top of you. 
His teeth sink delicately into your areola, tongue lapping over your nipple to soothe the hurt, and suddenly, you break.
“Please—” you gasp, wrenching his mouth away from your breast and whimpering when he resists at first, glaring up at you like he might bite. “Please, John—I can’t take it. I need you.”
His eyes darken, the pupil swallowing everything up. “Need me where, wife? Here?”
A hand dips between your thighs, pointer finger gliding over your sex, plump with blood. So tender that your mouth hangs open on a whine when he touches you. 
“Y-yes,” you whimper, gaze swimming. 
John’s breath comes out in a harsh, ragged pant. Completely undone in a way you’ve never seen before. “Get out, darlin’. I’m taking you home. Gonna give you what you need.”
514 notes · View notes
pandoraslxna · 3 days
Note
Cocky!Aonung talking shit about splitting Human!Reader in two and pounding her small demon pussy, but all his control thrown out the window when he bottoms out due to how tight she is. Like it’s driving him fucking crazy and he’s holding back so much. AND READER KNOWS.
She pulls his hand off her hip and glides it over the bulge he’s making in her stomach🥴 she turns her head to look back at him “Your so big stretching me out so good.” She’s just teasing the fuck out of him (Size kink go brrr)
Sincerely,😩
Ruin me
adult Ao‘nung x female human reader
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Words: 5k
Summary: Ao‘nung thinks he’s no match to any human males and could easily ruin you for all of your kind. Oh, was he wrong about that.
Warnings: explicit smut, size difference, size kink, belly bulge, Ao‘nung is drunk, dirty talk, slight degradation, cowgirl position, oral, switch!Ao‘nung
adult Ao‘nung art was made by the amazing @Cinetrix 🩵
Translations:
tawtute = human, sky person
paskalin = honey
naer = alcoholic drink
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Music, the flickering light of the big fire, the stink of naer [alcoholic drink], some metkayina dancing around the fire place while others told stories that emitted great laughed from all around them. Not exactly something you wouldn’t find enjoyable. Normally. The music was okay, but maybe if the booze wasn’t as disgusting you could find it in yourself to get up and dance with Kiri, but sadly eywa hadn’t granted you this luxury. So you just had to suffer through it, sober and bored, while everyone else seemed to have the time of their lives.
Being the only human in the village sucks. It makes you miss home more than anything, and you can’t help but drift off into happier memories. The omatikaya knew how to celebrate. They also knew how to make you feel welcome. Here, you didn’t even dare raise to your feet and join the cheerful dancing. Not sober, though. Afraid of weird looks from the metkayina that had never before seen a demon this close and still hadn’t grown very fond of you, you decided to stay put for the night.
After a while, Lo‘ak nudges your side and shoves a drink under your nose, but you decline with a put-on smile. Then he shrugs and chucks the liquor by himself. His careless way of drinking the entirely too strong metkayina booze earns him a frown and playful claps to the back of his head by his older brother, and it’s the only thing emitting a slight giggle from you in hours.
So here you were. Stuck between your drunk childhood friends and their new friends, watching people drink and grind (they could call it dancing as much as they wanted, it was obscene grinding and nothing would persuade you of anything different).
The olo’eyktans eldest, Ao‘nung or whatever the brats name was, was standing in front of the group, giving a speech about whatever. You can barely hear the words droning from his mouth, too apathetic to translate them in your head. You lost interest in whatever he had to say a long time ago, not that it was ever there to begin with.
Oh, you could definitely do without Ao’nung. He wasn’t exactly an enemy, but certainly not a friend. Not to you, not after everything he did. Ao’nung was the type of person whose name was known in the village. You realized that on the very first day here. The type of person who everyone loves, mostly because they’re intimated of him. The type of person that could snap his fingers and woman would fall to their knees to please him.
Technically, he had never been rude to you. But that didn’t matter. He was a horrible person by pure association.
Ao’nung carried himself like he owned the island. Well, perhaps he would, someday. But leading and owning are two entirely different things. Something it seems he hasn’t realized just yet. So yes, he’s an asshole. A cocky asshole that has no idea what it’s like to be thankful. What it’s like to be appreciative. He gets everything handed to him on a silver platter and is constantly showered with admiration and attention. And the worst thing of all is, that he believes he could own you, too.
"Oh I could", Ao’nung chuckles, and it’s the first thing he said that you actually registered. You catch the way Neteyam rolls his eyes shortly after giving you the look, and it’s just now that you snap out of your thoughts and realize what was being said must’ve been about you.
"What?" You frown.
"Ruin her", Ao’nung says completely over your head. He’s grinning, talking about you as if you weren’t even here with them and it’s only making things worse. "I could ruin her for all of her kind with ease. Just look at her, she’s so tiny. She probably can’t even take all of it."
"Bro", Lo’ak makes a face of disgust before breaking out in laughter, "don’t be fucking weird."
You sigh, heavily, and then roll your eyes so hard it stings a tiny bit. Not this again, you think.
"What? You don’t think I can, little demon?"
It’s not the first time this topic was bought up by the metkayina man and you know for a fact that it won’t be the last. And what only makes this worse is, you can’t even blame his words on the alcohol flowing through his system. Yes, he’s clearly a bit tipsy, but it seems this has been a topic he frequently occupied himself with. Like a challenge. And maybe that’s what it was for him. Truthfully, you were something new to him. Something exciting. Certainly a new way to proof himself to be the best, a challenge to see if he could actually ruin you. To have the foreign little demon submit to him.
"Fuck off", you tell him with a smile, the english rolling off your tongue so smoothly it makes Lo’ak and Neteyam stifle a laugh to not give away what you just said.
Ao’nung, completely oblivious to your words, grins even wider. His tail wags behind his back and his ears perk up and god, he looks so much like a stupid little puppy waiting for a treat. And as much as watching Ao’nung embarrass himself further because he once again tried and failed to sweet talk his way into your pants, it was late and you only had so much patience left in you today.
So you got up, excused yourself, turned around and walked away, back in the direction of the little camp that was set up for you on your stay with the metkayina.
Except you were stopped just a moment later, by a hand around your wrist, spinning you around and nearly making your mask go flying.
"Whoah, whoah, where do you think you’re going?" Ao’nung laughed, just a bit too loud in his drunkenness. "Party isn’t over yet, paskalin."
"Let me go", you sighed, trying to wriggle yourself free, but his grip was like iron.
"Oh c’mon, loosen up a little. It’s like you don’t know how to have fun! Do I really have to teach you?” Ao’nung shook his head, making soft yet still very audible tsk-tsk sounds. He then lifted the cup in his hand and held it in your face. "Drink."
“No thanks", you politely pushed his hand away. "I prefer the omatikayas naer. It’s sweeter."
This made him laugh again, as if you had just made the best joke he’d heard in ages. “Oh, pretty, you don’t drink for the taste!” He emphasised the word taste, making it sound as if he was trying to explain something to a six-year old. The way your rolled your eyes at him made his face break into a sharp grin, and at this point you genuinely wondered if he thought rolling your eyes at someone was the human equivalent to flirting.
"Okay, no drinks, I get it. Then what do you say about us ditching the others and have some private fun instead, hm?"
"You’re drunk, fish lips, and you know my answer. It’s the same as always."
"And? C‘mon, I’ve been dying to get a taste of you", he chuckles, cocking his head as he looks down at you. "Let me show you how good I could make you feel. I mean what I said earlier, and you know it." For the last part, he leaned down enough so his lips brushed the lobe of your ear as he spoke lowly, "Don’t be shy, let me ruin that pretty little tawtute pussy. I know you want it."
God, he was so insufferable. You knew that you would probably never hear the end of it if you didn’t finally do something against this...
Glancing back over your shoulder, you watched the others lost in their drunken chitter chatter, too distracted to pay you both any mind. Good. "You know what? Fine. Let’s go somewhere else", you said with a shrug and to your amusement, looked back at Ao’nung at the exact moment his brain had processed what you had just said. There was a split second in which his face dropped in utter confusion, before he proudly puffed his chest out and licked his lips in anticipation.
Saying he was like putty in your hands was a fairly humble brag at this point. In truth, he was all yours– fully and completely yours. He just didn’t know it yet.
Watching his wide curious eyes scan the makeshift labs full of sky people technology was a sight better than anything you could’ve ever dreamed about. You love that the big cocky guy seems so out of place here, as he clumsily ducks under the doorframe to your bedroom. Closing the door behind him, you then feel his gaze on you. Ao‘nung doesn’t make much of an act around hiding the lust in his eyes as he watches you discard your mask to the little table next to the door, practically eye-fucking you already.
"Sit down", you tell him, biting the inside of your cheek to hide the amused smile wanting to spread on your lips. You want to play along for a while longer, just for the fun of it. "Straight to the point, huh?" Ao‘nung smirks as he does as instructed, the bed creaking under his weight. "I knew you wanted this just as much as I did."
You shake your head with a giggle as you step closer between his spread thighs. "You’re just so tall", you bat your pretty long lashes at him, talking in your most seductive voice as your hands reach out to wander from his board chest to his shoulders, before your arms encircle his neck. "It’s easier for me to do this when you sit down", you say in a hushed whisper, before pressing your lips against the corner of his mouth, then one more properly on-center. Ao’nung parts his lips, greedy and desperate, but you just ignore him, kisses his bottom lip and bites it softly. Bites it again, harder this time, raking with your teeth until he can feel it swelling up a bit.
And then you kiss him nowhere near chastely. A sigh escapes you and you let it ebb into a soft moan when he slips his tongue into your mouth. His mouth is messy and clever, but you’re making these little noises that are starting to turn him on so damn much, you just know he’s going dizzy with how good it is.
Ao‘nung groans into it, his hands immediately running up your thighs and backside, boldly grabbing a handful of each one of your ass cheeks. He‘s greedy in the way he kisses, taking control of all movements and you let him. For now. Until his mouth’s almost numb from kissing.
Ao’nung hasn’t done this much kissing since he was fourteen and had his first girlfriend, and he definitely hasn’t ever been kissed like you kissed. It’s the perfect mix of submissive, yet so filthy and dirty, it makes him as hard as a rock. Your ass fits right into his palms and he kneads the supple flesh, attempts to spread your cheeks and nearly rips the seams of your jeans.
He‘s so impatient, it would’ve been cute if it didn’t worry you that he would skip the foreplay completely and just pound you into the mattress. This guy needed some relief first, you decided.
After a while of sucking on each other tongues, panting against each others lips and kissing so hungrily, there’s spit running down his chin, you gently push yourself away with a hand on his chest. His eyes are still half lidded and his lips are parted once you’ve put some space between you both and you can’t help but giggle at the sight of his desperate state. He’s so easy, you think to yourself.
Your hands then wander from his tattooed chest, further down his toned stomach, skimming over his muscles and past the cord that holds his loincloth together. The sound of him sucking in a sharp breath once your palm runs over the outline of his hard cock makes goosebumps appear all over your body. God, no wonder he was acting so cocky all the time. Ao’nung was huge. More than just proportional to the rest of his body.
The look in your face must’ve given your thoughts away, because the metkayina man then grins and chuckles, "I told you, paskalin. I will ruin you."
A smile pulls at your lips at that and then you sink to your knees between his spread thighs. It takes both of your hands and a little help to get him out of his loincloth, but the effort is rewarded with a mouth watering sight.
Ao’nungs cock is long and thick, the same pretty cyan as the rest of his body, hard and flushed and standing upright, slowly dripping pre-cum. You could even see it twitch to the rhythm of his rapid heartbeat, wordlessly begging to be touched. You lick your lips at that, a movement that doesn’t go unnoticed.
"You want to suck my cock, hm?" Ao‘nungs hand reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb running over your kiss-swollen bottom lip. "Think you can take it?"
"I can try", you say in hushed whisper, smiling up at him with those big doe eyes you know will drive him insane. His cock throbs heavily as you run your small hands up the inside of his thigh, then grabbing his length with both of them. He’s too thick to close your hands entirely around him, but that only adds further to the exciting flutter in your stomach.
It’s just a lick, from base to tip, at first. One quick run with your tongue. Ao‘nung makes a noise, clearly made in an effort to keep himself from moaning and you grin mischievously. You start shallow and easy. Somewhat slow and lazy. Just working him up with kisses on his smooth tip and kitten licks along his shaft. As a reward, he makes soft, low groans every now and then. It encourages you to pick up the pace and go deeper.
Your lips wrap around the head, tongue glued to the underside and then you slowly suck him in as far as he could go before making you gag -which wasn’t much, considering that his tip almost filled your mouth out completely. But you managed to make it work, your hands coming to help and stroke every inch you couldn’t reach.
Ao‘nung let out a strangled moan at the tight heat your throat formed around him and then tangled his fist in your hair. "Fuck, that’s good…"
A glance up reveals a pair of lust darkened eyes staring down at you, his bottom lip sucked in between his sharp canine and his eyebrows drawn together in pleasure. You chuckle and hum around his cock, tasting the musky, earthy tang of his pre-cum dripping onto the back of your tongue as you suck and slurp around his cock.
Ao’nungs noises are slowly growing louder and more frequent, but they aren’t out of control. Yet.
You let the tip of your tongue flick against his slit, and this time the metkayina didn’t even try to hold back a moan. "Great mother– shit, keep that up and you‘ll make me come!"
At this, you pull off and look up with a wicked grin that quickly turns into a little pout. "Not yet, big boy. I want you to hold it.” Your tongue darts out again to give the head of his cock a seductive lick. "Hold it so you can come inside me, yes?"
Ao‘nung swallows thickly, trying to compose himself and keep his calm, and then nods. "Get up here then, c‘mon", he huffs, sounding a little too breathless for his own liking as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you up to your feet. Your clothes were off faster than you could even process with the speed of an extra set of hands that were just itching to feel every inch of your exposed skin.
"What a pretty little demon", Ao‘nung cooed as his eyes raked over your body, his hands groping at your ass and hips, one of them running up to knead your tits. "Always knew you’d be a sight." He then places a couple of open mouthed kisses on the warm, soft skin of your breast, his lips closing around a nipple to gently suck before he released it with a wet pop.
"We should make sure to get you ready for me", Ao’nung whispered before he continued to lap at your tits. "Get you all nice and wet, stretch you out for my cock", he said after a long drag of his tongue over your sensitive skin.
"Yeah", you breath softly, letting your head fall back as you enjoyed the feeling of his tongue tease one nipple, and then the other. "We should."
"How does the tiny human want me then, hm?"
A mischievous smile spread on your lips as you straddled the big na‘vi, making sure to shuffle in position by letting your cunt drag over his cock which emitted a sharp hiss from the man under you. Both of your arms were now back around his neck, your chest pressed tight against his as you arched your back for him.
"Want you to finger me before I ride you", you whispered lowly into his pointy ear, before licking along the soft shell. You giggle at the way it twitches in excitement of hearing your desires, before Ao‘nung wraps a strong arm around your middle and reaches between your thighs from behind with the other.
He makes a low sound, between a groan and a growl, as his finger glides through your slippery folds. He locates your clit with ease and teases the little bundle of nerves by drawing featherlight circles on it. Sweet gasps of pleasure tumble from your parted lips and directly into his ear and he grins. More arousal seeps out of you the more he plays with your clit, and it doesn’t take him very long to grow impatient and let his fingers wander to the source of it. Your tiny hole clenches with the need to be filled and Ao‘nung let’s out an appreciative hum as he pushes his index finger past your entrance with minimal resistance. You’re so wet, so ready to be taken, he thinks. But you’re also tight, he realizes quickly.
Wriggling the second finger inside is more of a challenge, but you still take it. Your moans grow louder as he begins to push his fingers in to the last knuckle, thrusting them in and out slowly, curling them just right for your legs to tremble.
Once he deems you ready enough and his impatience seems to get the best of him, Ao’nung retreats his fingers and grabs your hips to position you right above his cock. He presses you down to where it lays hard and heavy on his stomach, then guides you by the hips to run your cunt up and down his length, lubing himself with your arousal.
"Think you’re ready for me, paskalin?", Ao’nung asks, but his voice sounds more strained that he would like admit. He’s so precious, holding himself back so much. And he’s was doing so well there. He’s not even inside you yet but you can feel his cock pulse, so close to the finish line already.
For a moment you debate if you should shake your head and make him eat you out first, just to see how long he can hold it in. You knew that would be mean. But that was exactly the point. He might be as hard as a rock, but you had the patience of a saint, and could easily drag this out. But the thought of him finishing early over how tight you are is just so much better.
"See for yourself", you purr into his ear, before leaning back with a hand on his chest, the other one grabbing his length and positioning it to nudge against your entrance.
"Go slow, tawtute. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt, do we?" Ao’nung chuckles confidently, but the sound is quickly cut off once you lower yourself onto his cock. "F-Fuck", he gasps, his hands on your hips suddenly tightening. He groans through gritted teeth, feeling your warmth embrace the tip of his cock. Letting him stretch your tight hole, you pause every couple of inches, just slowly making progress. But it was enough to get Ao’nung on the verge of loosing his composure.
Squeezing his eyes shut, all he could feel was the suffocating heat all around his cock, swallowing him whole, inch after inch. All he could do was lay there and try to control his rapid breathing, groaning loud and deep the further you sank down.
You’re so tight, so incredibly tight, it’s like nothing he has ever felt before. It was a vice like grip that squeezed his cock for all it’s worth and you hadn’t even started to move properly. Exhaling another shaky breath, he finally felt you snug against him, which made him pry his eyes open slowly.
"What’s wrong, hm?" You said, cocking your head at the man below you. "You’ve always got such a mouth on you, pretty boy, what happened?"
Ao’nung couldn’t even react, his breath cut off completely and his eyes rolled back into his head as he felt your hot walls pulsate around his length.
"Bit off a bit more than you could chew, huh?" You giggle softly. Looking down at yourself, you couldn’t just feel but see the very prominent bulge of where his cock was nestled deep inside you.
"Fuck, you’re so big", you said with a smile. Ao’nungs eyes were so heavy with lust as he stared at you, biting his bottom lip hard enough to taste copper in order not to loose himself right here and right now. But you weren’t making it very easy for him.
"Look how much you’re stretching me out", you whispered, before taking his hands from your hips and repositioning them to rest and the bulge of your stomach. "You’re so deep inside me, can you feel it?"
And then, torturously slow, you lifted your hips up. The combined feeling beneath his big palms and also his cock, of him sliding out of you, drove Ao’nung close to madness. He was almost completely out, only the tip resting inside you, when you stopped. You could see the self-restraint in his feverish gaze, his pupils grown so much his eyes were almost fully black now.
"Ready, big boy?"
He wouldn’t possibly know what to be ready for, so he just nods, drunk of lust.
You don’t sink down nearly as slow and carefully as just a few minutes ago when your body still had to adjust to his size. You slam yourself down and Ao’nung makes a sound that’s close to a punched out moan. He feels the head of his cock nestled against your cervix, pressed right against the opening to your womb and it makes him physically shudder.
His back arches and then your hands find leverage on his chest and you start bouncing on him.
"Oh eywa", the metkayina gasps loudly, "Are you trying to kill me?" The soft, velvety walls of your cunt squeeze around him at his words and his eyes almost cross at that. "You– shit, you feel so good. You’re so– so tight, fuck!"
Instead of a verbal response, you just grin and decide to let your body do all the talking for you. Starting with a pace that he least expected now, moving your hips hard and fast— lifting yourself up and down on Ao‘nung cock and spilling moans that he felt deep to his core. His cock almost slips out each time, before you slam your hips back down, turning him into a moaning, whimpering mess.
Ao’nungs toes curl at the feeling of your tight heat swallowing him over and over again, and you felt the way his cock throbbed heavily inside you. He was so close, so so close. His mouth was slightly agape as he watched your breasts bounce with every thrust, providing the perfect view of yourself, moving how you pleased without a care for anything else. There was so much salvia pooling in his mouth, Ao‘nung felt like a starved man forced to stare at his favorite dish right in front of him.
With the way you plunged his cock into your pussy over and over again, deeper with every thrust, he was certain that it must feel like he was already in your stomach. And you were moaning like that was the case. The sounds you knocked out of his throat were a mixture of groans, grunts and sweet whimpers, whenever his dick knocked on your cervix like an iron hammer –until it was all too much for the poor man.
"I- Stop, shit, slow down", he managed to force out, his hands squeezing your hips so hard you knew they would be bruised by tomorrow. That didn’t stop you from riding him, though. "Eywa woman, you’re gonna make me–"
"You’re eating your words yet, hm?" You cut him off, switching from bouncing to grinding yourself against him, circling your hips as if you were trying to spell his name.
"H-Huh, what?", he tries, but fails to understand what you were trying to say, once your walls seem to suffocate him, squeezing around his length particularly hard. "Oh sh-it!"
A smile pulls at your lips. You’re enjoying this far too much.
Leaning forward you press your lips against his, then move from his mouth to his jaw, places open mouthed kisses on his throat and up to the tip of his ear. Your blunt teeth graze his lobe and then you whisper, "You said you would ruin me for all of my kind. But who’s ruining who now?"
"Okay, I- I get it", he says in a breathless moan. "Shit, please, you–"
"Say it", you demand with a harsh thrust. "Who’s ruining this big, strong warrior for all of his kind?"
"Y-You!" Ao’nung groans, his hips raising off the bed as if to chase the tightness of your cunt as you lift yourself up and then down again. "You do, fuck, you’re ruining me!"
"Hmm, you’re so loud", you hum, "It’s like you want everyone to hear how good the little tawtute’s making you feel."
It's not enough, the slow drag of you pulling out, and then the harsh thrust of him filling you up again. It’s not enough but it's also too much, too good! Ao’nung can't take anymore.
"I– I’m gonna come!" He groans, throwing his head back in bliss. "I can’t– ca- hngh– you just feel so good, I’m gonna fucking come!"
"What, already?", you giggle, "That’s so sweet."
His excitement suddenly overwhelms your control, and he thrusts up into you, fast and hard as he begins to come. He drops his head onto the mattress, suddenly weak with the pleasure rushing through him, and his cock jerks inside your warmth. You feel the pulse of his blood pounding, pounding, and Ao’nung pushes in one last time as deeply as he can.
"C‘mon, do it then", you say between moans, your voice bouncing from the sheer force of his jackhammer-like thrusts. "Come for me, baby. I want you to come inside me, make me feel good."
Sweat was already beading at his forehead, curses being hissed through clenched teeth as he held you steady and plunged his cock into you over and over again.
Ao’nung couldn’t think straight anymore. You were still so tight, so good, every inch of his cock sliding into you made his brain turn into goo. It felt like waves of water rushing over him, drowning him in the feeling before something pulled him out and his lungs finally filled with air.
Ao’nung comes hard, shaking and squirming beneath you as his hot seed fills ever inch inside you there is to fill. The sheer intensity of it is enough to help you tumble over the edge with him, and you find his lips just in time to moan into each others mouths, tongues curling and lips sucking the other in. It’s so filthy, so wet and messy, it takes you a hot minute to realize the na‘vi underneath you has grown limp before you stopped grinding against him.
You go still for a minute, just smiling at the mess you’ve made out of the man that had so much to say about ruining you earlier that night. And then, almost casually, your hips roll up in a gentle thrust. Ao’nungs breath catches on a noise, and even he isn’t sure if it's pleasured or pained, nerve endings still flayed and raw-open. He’s so overstimulated from the tightness of your human cunt, he shudders when you finally lift yourself up and off of him.
Finally, Ao’nung pushes himself up to one elbow, words forming on his lips, but they're lost on a ragged gasp as you gently push him back down by his shoulders.
"What- what are you doing?" He chuckles in disbelief, his eyes eagerly following your every movement. His cum still oozes out of you in a thick flow, the sight alone so obscene it makes his cock already half hard again. His hands reach out to hold you, but you remove them, before shuffling to straddle his head.
"You can still talk, Ao‘nung. And when I say I’ll ruin you, I mean it. Now lay back down and let me see what else that dirty mouth of yours is good for."
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732 notes · View notes
ellecdc · 2 days
Note
hi!!!!
id love to see a poly!marauders where the reader is muggle born or atlest muggle raised , reader and remus just bond over muggle stuff while the others sit there all confused asking wtf they’re talking about
like music, technology, maybe certain foods, certain slang and books the wizard world doesn’t have.
(ps i love ur blog and everything you write plz keep it up❤️)
hahaha awe so cute - here's a sweet little scene, and thanks for your request <33
poly!marauders x gn!reader who is muggle born
James was not too proud to admit he was rather upset.
And by upset, he meant jealous, terribly jealous. And desperate, so unbelievably desperate. And also sort of pissed off.
The cause of such upset, you might wonder?
Oh, only one of his own sodding boyfriends, of course.
You see, it had been his idea to start chatting with you in order to see where things could go - you know, romantically - between the four of you.
Sirius was eager - which would seem very out of character for the notoriously territorial and stand-offish Black who was wary of anyone interfering with their already established dynamic - but Sirius was equally as enamoured with you as James was from your shared classes and your few interactions around the castle.
Of course - as would be expected - it was Moony that the two of them had to persuade to consider you in earnest. 
“Come on, Moons. Don’t tell me you’re worried that you won’t be the smartest one in the relationship anymore.” Sirius had teased, earning him a glare from the werewolf. 
But of course, James (and Sirius) had been right, and Remus was practically immediately taken with you after James had officially introduced you to his boyfriends at a Gryffindor party. 
It was perhaps very helpful that you happened to be muggle born seeing as Remus had a muggle parent himself, so he was able to bond with you over various muggle things.
And James thought that was wonderful! Truly!
Really.
He honestly did.
But...well, did you guys have to talk about it all of the time!?
And it’s not that James didn’t like you talking about muggle things, or that he didn’t like muggle things in general.
What he didn’t like was that he couldn’t participate in the conversation at all.
And James is sorry, but what in the buggering fuck was a ‘vee sea are’?
James tuned back into the conversation when he began recognizing some of the words you and Remus were saying, though Sirius looked no less confused than he had previously.
“My favourite is probably The Sound of Music.” You admitted somewhat bashfully, features painted with a shy smile as you looked at Remus through your eyelashes.
James didn’t know what you were so shy about, especially considering Remus was beaming at you in response. “Me too!” He agreed readily.
“I love the sound of music!” James chimed in readily, earning him a surprise look from you, a curious look from Remus, and a bemused look from Sirius. 
“Do you really?” You asked sweetly, offering him a hopeful smile.
“I didn’t know you’d ever heard of it.” Remus added quietly.
James scoffed. “Oh, come off it Moons. Of course I love the sound of music! It’s arguably one of my favourite sounds ever!” 
“Awe.” You said sympathetically as Remus barked a laugh.
James looked at the two of you in confusion before he turned to Sirius in hopes for an answer. 
“I don’t know how Prongsie, seeing as they never really asked a question.” Sirius started, placing a reassuring hand on his thigh and squeezing gently, “But I think you got the answer wrong.”
James harrumphed and fell back into his chair, feeling thoroughly dejected. 
“I’m sorry Jamie.” You apologized, looking particularly distraught at having caused James any grief. “We can talk about something else, if you’d like.”
James waved you off quickly. “No, no. I’m sorry, sweets. It doesn’t matter to me what you talk about, as long as I get to continue hearing the sound of your lovely voice, arguably my second favourite sound ever.” 
James may not know what sounds of music you had been talking about, but he was proud that he did know how to make you blush something fierce with nothing but a few simple words. 
516 notes · View notes
stars4chratt · 20 hours
Text
Subconscious
Pairing: Matt x fem!reader
Warnings: Again, smut / use of drugs / confessing / cocky to sub!Matt / softdom!reader / high sex (i do not condone this in any way guys, just a fair warning) / praise / stoner!Matt / grinding / handjob / vanilla(ish) / mommy kink / pet names (sweetheart, princess, mommy, etc etc) / a trip (no pun) / aftercare / a lot of swearing
Summary: The reader and Matt have been the best of friends ever since they were eleven. As they got older, the more vulnerable they were to alcohol and drugs. Matt would always be by her side getting high and drunk at desolate and abandoned parks, or maybe even in Matt’s room. Matt and the reader agreed to only stick to natural stuff like weed. But now, they’re taking it up a notch by taking a round and earthy psychedelic.
Author’s Note: stoner Matt > as i’m writing this i have Matt’s recorded twitch streams playing in the back. MY BAD I KEEP ADDING THE SWEETHEART PET NAME WITH MATT I JS LOVE IT SM ESP AFTER THE BAGS TT. Anyways, this wasn’t requested or anything this is something i just really wanted to write because i love it when there's a best friend trope weaved in <3 HOPE YOU ENJOYYYY. From Maxine, with love ♡.
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“Are we still friends? Can we be friends?” - ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?, TYLER THE CREATOR
╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗
Matt has always had an obsession with spirituality and the 60s. From the posters of Jimi Hendrix on his walls, to the deluxe edition Beatles vinyl records that sit alongside the vintage record player on his hardwood dresser.
Ever since Matt’s dad bought a collection of thrifted CDs for his car when he was only a toddler, he fell in love with psychedelic rock and the whole new era of love and peace and tranquil that came around in the mid to late 20th century.
Whenever he isn’t in his cramped and maximalist abode smoking bubba kush, he’s out going to underground stores which sell abstract and kaleidoscopic clothes and fashion statements in general.
The vibrant colours and the political mindsets and the pure lack of fucks to give during the time period has Matt enamoured. Calling him a big fan would be putting it extremely lightly.
You and Matt first met in 6th grade of middle school. From what you can remember, you were sitting next to him.
He was laser focused on his assignment with big and obvious headphones clasped onto his head.
Bobbing his head slowly to the smooth and flowy melodies, you pat him on the shoulder.
He turns his head and immediately pulls the headphones to the side so one of his ears perks out.
“What music are you listenin’ to?” Matt instantly thinks you’re about to ridicule him. He, for some odd reason, has always been the victim of mockery. You never understood why, he’s such a cool and chilled out kid.
“O-oh…um…” Matt stutters nervously. He was truly unsure of what to say or do in this situation. You could feel the fight or flight trigger in his hard gaze.
“Gimme the headphones! I wanna listen.” Exclaiming with an odd sense of compassion. Matt furrows his eyebrows and looks at you funny but still gives you his headphones anyway.
You whiz the headphones around your ears and onto your head. The hallucinatory notes mixing with the light and staticky voices put you in a heavy but pleasing trance.
You feel a big smile wipe across your face clean as you look back at Matt staring at you impatiently. Silently telling you ‘give me my headphones back, you weirdo.’
“This is so cool! What’s the song called?” You speak enthusiastically, still with a big grin on your profile.
Matt’s eyes light up slightly at you. You can’t tell if it’s because he’s shocked at your interest in this type of thing or because he was alarmed by how bubbly and enthusiastic you are.
“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds… It’s by the Beatles.” He drawls out, now looking down at the floor and fidgeting with his fingers.
“Siiiiiick. Are there any more songs like this one?” You hand him back his headphones, you start to rock in your chair in anticipation and out of looking for something to do now that you don’t have the sensory fulfilment that is Matt’s music taste.
“Oh of course. They’re a band with a bunch of other songs and albums, kid.” Matt calling you kid after almost instantaneously sparking an acquaintance with you makes you giggle to yourself. What a funny nickname for someone you just met.
“Well, can you show me them? Pretty please?” You utter with an exaggerated pout on your lips as you flutter your eyelashes at him. You intertwine your hands and rest them at the side of your face to hyperbolise the sad puppy look, making Matt chuckle lightly.
“Fine…there are many other bands like them, y’know.”
“Show me those ones too!” Yelling down his ear with eagerness, he flinches at your noisiness and covers his ear you just bellowed in.
“Ugh.” He scoffs in annoyance, whilst you’re sitting across him with the biggest twinkle in your eye.
“Yay! Thank youuuuu.” Your genuine excitement makes his face flush into a deep maroon. He turns his head around in embarrassment, trying not to maintain eye contact.
“Yeah whatever, kid.”
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
NINE YEARS LATER
“Wanna try it?”
What Matt has in his hands is a vacuum sealed metallic bag. You could not make out what it is but you knew for sure it was some kind of drug.
“What the fuck is it? I thought we made an agreement that we weren’t gonna do chemical shit. Y’know how I feel about that.” You scrunch your nose in both confusion and disgust. Yet you were still curious as to what Matt was holding in his hand.
“Kid, have you never heard of magic mushrooms before? Jesus, for someone who smokes a fuck ton of wedding cake, you seem to have no clue what these boomers are.”
“I do know what a fucking magic mushroom is, Matt. I just didn’t want it to be a bag of heroin or some shit like that.” Your legs cross whilst you look at him through your eyelashes. You’re genuinely hesitant since you’ve never tried a mushroom before. Yeah, you smoked weed. But this is a whole different thing. This is a literal psychedelic.
“Heroin at mass is sold in baggies or balloons, stupid.” He chortles. “As I was saying, are you gonna try it with me or nah?” He chucks the small pouch at you. 
There’s a small plastic window where you can see the muddy fungi inside. You cringe in distaste, you wonder to yourself where the fuck he got them from. Incredibly skittish, you want to back out. But curiosity and temptation is killing you at the same time.
“I don’t think I wanna try this Matt. It seems stupid.” You scoff. Matt smirks down at you and grabs the bag again.
“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, kid. It’s just mushrooms, you’re not gonna die.” He waves the sealed bag tantalisingly around your face.
“Fine, fine whatever.” You give him the bird and suck your teeth. He chuckles like a little child at your offensive remarks. He offers you the bag again.
“Ladies first.” He remarks cunningly.
You break open the packet and receive a heavy waft of dirt. You turn your head the other way immediately as a natural reaction. The strong scent makes your face almost turn inside out in repulsion.
“You’re so dramatic.” Matt smirks. You turn back at him with a mean glare.
“You sniff it, then. ‘Cuz you’re soooo tough.” You jitter mockingly right up in his face. Dragging your hand right under his nostrils for him to get a whiff. His eyebrows knit close together and screw his eyes shut.
“Who’s dramatic now? Hm?” Your teasing rhetoric strikes one of his nerves. He immediately plunges his hand in the bag and takes the squishy piece of matter.
“Hey hey, slow down. Let me get one out.” You yell out at him in shock at his lack of hesitancy. He rolls his eyes with impatience while your shivering hand places itself into the plastic bag to pick one out.
“Oh yeah, just so y’know, this could last up to 5 hours.” Matt states super casually. Your eyebrows raise as you look back up at him. You’re not all that surprised though. What were you expecting? It's not plain jane weed, it’s mushrooms.
“I don’t give a fuck anymore, let’s just get this over with.” 
Soon after you said that, you both hastily gulped the abnormal saprophyte down. Both of your faces contort at the peculiar taste and texture.
“Eurgh… that was the worst.” You gag at the displeasure going down your throat and into your digestive system.
“Yeah, this is a one time thing for sure.” Matt affirms with a deep frown. He turns to his queen sized bed with silk sheets and plops down next to you.
“When will these hit?” You quiz him curiously. Tangling and playing with the strands of your hair out of a way to distract yourself from what you just did.
“It's the same principle as an edible, it’ll take a while to hit. So don’t take another one.” He mumbles inconspicuously since his face is half smushed into his soft mattress.
“Shall we smoke some weed while we wait?”
“No, dude. We’d literally die. Let’s not fuckin’ kill ourselves from severe psychosis tonight, yeah?” 
You smile at his stupid banter. It’s what made Matt so appealing to you. His dry humour alongside his ridiculous behaviour when you’re both stoned as shit is like taking a breath of fresh air. Knowing each other for almost ten years and you two still never get tired of each other. Constantly hanging out, doing stupid and reckless shit ever since you two were tweens. True best friends.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
A while has passed, and the both of you are so far out of your heads. Every single time you turn to look at each other, the more distorted everything gets. You see things you don’t actually see, you hear things you don’t actually hear, you smell things you don’t actually smell. The tie dye-like swirls on Matt’s tapestries that hang proud on his walls disfigure and circle around putting you under a strict hypnosis.
“Holy shit…” Matt’s voice rattles through your cochleas, making your head sting from the blare. You move around to see him while your vision oversaturates and wiggles with no rhythm or control. 
“W-what is going on…” The bare echoes of your voice tingles your senses. The soft scent of Matt’s white musk incense blazing in the background fills the crevices of your nostrils and massages your brain, it was the only thing soothing you from the extremity of the situation.
“Matt…I’m scared…What the fuck is going on.” Abruptly, the effects on your voice quickly transitions into a thick static. The sensory overload inflicts the both of you. You feel incredibly overwhelmed and almost spiral into a state of panic.
“I’m here, I promise.” Matt mutters under his breath. His clammy hands take a hold of your wrist firmly. You look up at him to see his pupils viciously dilated while finding it hard to breathe.
“I’m so scared.” You shudder. Pure anxiety soaks you up but is squeezed back out when Matt moves your head to rest on his shoulder. He tilts his head so it lays on top of yours.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I promise.” Your heartbeat pounds rapidly. You don’t say or do anything both because you’re way too high as well as wanting to savour this moment since you purely assume this will never happen ever again.
Why is Matt being so soft with you? Ever since you two first met, he’s never been the type to call you these names.
“From now on. Weed n’ fuckin’ weed only.” You demand in a serious manner. Matt sighs out a laugh while he strokes your hair in reassurance. “Of course… p-princess.”
You purse your lips as a way to try and hide the excitement from Matt calling you these sudden names. A million thoughts come racing through your mind all at once. You’ve gotten both high and drunk with Matt on several occasions. Are the mushrooms that strong?
Your vision is still eradicated and infused with neon reds and pinks. You want to close your eyes but when you’re in pitch black darkness, the patterns become more prominent and it freaks you out to an extreme.
You hear Matt whisper delicately which makes your ears perk up indefinitely. You twist your neck to look up at him for his gaze to meet yours. His mouth hangs slightly open with his pupils large and his eyebags hang low across his defined cheekbones.
“l-like…you..” He sputters out. He sounds like he has no more control left in the muscles of his face any more. Jesus christ, this shit is strong. 
“...huh…” Rebound of the vowels smushed on your tongue and teeth is elevated by the effects of the drug. Both you and Matt are incredibly discombobulated. You raise yourself from underneath Matt’s figure for you to try your absolute best to attempt to understand what he just said.
Matt’s now looking up at you through the locks of hair that drape over his low and inflamed eyes.
“I really…really like you… like, ‘ver since… I-I got to know you better in 6th grade…I now have a decent excuse for why I’m telling you this... I’m fucking tripping balls.” He laughs it off as if he didn’t just confess his feelings to you off the rip right in front of you, face to face.
You just sit there gazing down at him bewildered with your mouth agape. He clenches his lips shut and frowns slightly, averting his gaze down to the bed in regret of just blurting that out.
“Matt…w-what the fuck…” Immediately after you utter this question, Matt slaps his hand over his mouth and starts to slightly curl himself up into a little ball like a shrivelled raisin. 
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I-I ruined the experience… I thought you felt the same way and I was thinking too quickly ahead of myself I-I’m really sorry-”
You pat both of Matt’s shoulders and force his head up to look at you.
“Matt, I-It’s okay… I promise you. I-I feel the same. I know we’re both high as fuck right now, but I know for sure t-that I’m telling the truth. I really like you, Matt.”
His body loosens underneath you in reaction to your words. Your thumb rubs softly over his defined cheekbones. The frown on his face turned upside down completely into a large smile. 
Your big and swollen pupils squint down at him. His heavy breaths, his cherry pink lips resting lazily and hanging slightly open, and his frizzy  and dishevelled hair that drapes gracefully over his droopy eyes.
Everything about him, the whole sight of him makes you soaked at your core.
Your thighs clench together in desperation and you grit down onto your bottom lip intensely. The flesh of your hand is still resting on Matt’s face. You can feel the pricklyness of his stubble on your very fingertips.
The two of you just stare at each other, admiring every little thing about one another. In a comfortable but loud silence. The effects of the drug are still sharp around the edge, jabbing and stabbing both of your 5 main senses.
You feel your body start to give in and fall forward into Matt. Your forehead clashes with his. Your large breaths blend together.
Abruptly, he tilts his head up. His lips just graze against yours. You can tell he’s desperate with his eyes full to the brim with lust and eroticism. You pull away lightly with a smirk on your face whilst Matt writhes and squirms. He tries to follow your head so he can make contact with your mouth. He really wants to kiss you.
Seeing him this vulnerable makes you melt. What once was a bad-mouthing, cocky and smug little shit who smoked with you every week was now gone. He’s now tripping on mushrooms underneath you with a throbbing semi.
You manoeuvre yourself over so both of your legs are spread on top of him. You’re in a cowgirl position, with Matt. 
His prick pulses harshly beneath your heat. The only thing stopping the contact between the two of you are your clothes. Matt’s now fully hard, to the point where his dick has developed a tent in his harem pants. 
You start to sway your hips back and forth. Matt’s head flips back fully and his mouth hangs open. His Adam's apple is fully revealed and bobs up and down marginally. His hefty breathing now transitioned into hot and rowdy moans and whimpers.
“Look at me baby, look at me while I grind on your cock.” You finally spoke, after there was nothing but whines and sobs filling the air.
“Y-yes mommy…” You sigh out a sharp laugh. Knowing your arrogant friend who’s always causing a riot with alcohol and dope is now rock hard thanks to you, moaning and whining into your ear like a little bitch fills you with an overwhelming sense of fulfilment.
“Yeah that’s right, be a good boy for me. Keep calling me mommy.” You feel as though you could do anything to him right this second. You had all of the power and control over Matt. Your teeth grit together and the smirk on your face largens.
“You make me feel so good, Mommy. Y-you’re gonna make me cum…” The words come spilling out of his mouth like calm waves of the ocean. What used to be the intense sound of his voice from the drugs now turned silky smooth from the euphoria spooling out from your sensitive nerves.
You stop rocking your hips on top of his cock. Matt looks up at you with his bottom lip concealed fully inside his mouth by his teeth. 
“Take your pants off baby, lemme make you cum properly.” You command him pompously. Immediately, he speedily grasps at his waist band and tugs it down his thighs.
His cock bounces out of the loose fabric. The tip was swollen and pink with precum dripping out thickly. The rhythm of his breath matched with the harsh trembling of blood flow to his dick. 
“Jesus Christ… and I barely did anything to you, not yet anyway.” You tease. Matt’s face jams up with impatience and knuckles his hands into his vibrant sheets.
“P-please just touch me. I really wanna cum mommy.” He pleads eagerly. His eyebrows furrowed deeply into his skin and his face splashed apricot pink. His whole body shivers. Anticipating heavily for your skin to press into his.
You reach out your hand and wrap it loosely around his large and thick cock. You slither down his shaft slowly in a jesting manner. You leer up at Matt to see him gaping down at you, panting stiffly.
Your pace on his dick starts to quicken. Your fingers clench tightly around him making him jolt up into your hand.
Matt loses all control within himself and starts to thrust up and down hastily. Practically fucking your hand. You push him down with your other palm and hold him into place. You shoot him a mean stare as he gulps down what was left of his pride.
“Don’t move.” The stern tone infused in your voice makes Matt quiver. He tugs at the collar of his shirt and pulls it up his face to conceal his severe embarrassment.
What’s happening right now tells you one thing that you never would’ve thought would be the case. Matt loves being controlled. He admires the idea of being dominated. And you are contributing to that fantasy.
The pad of your index and middle finger press onto his fleshy, rosy-red tip faintly. A choked up whine crawls out of his throat and his legs rise upwards but your weight stops them.
“M-mommy… please don't stop... I’m gonna cum.”
“Do it baby. Don’t be shy. Be a good boy for mommy and cum.” You start to go faster and more harsh on his sensitive tip. Matt’s entire body shakes and his hips buck and lock into place.
“Cumming mommy, c-cumming...”
His tip suddenly spurts out long thick strings of his load. Onto your face, your hand, your clothes, your chest, everywhere. Every single time a white rope would come spilling out of his prick, an intense shiver would shoot through his body and his shirt is now crumpled into its original place.
He gasps intimately while you sit there with his seed still dripping down your face. 
Matt’s eyes suddenly widen and he raises his entire figure in a panic to grab the box of tissues on his bedside table.
“No no, don’t worry. I got it.” You disclose to him delicately. You tug out a few sheets of tissue and wipe at his skin from the waist below.
“I’m sorry for making such a mess… I didn’t think it would be that bad.” Matt utters sorrowfully. He pulls his pants back up and you grab more tissues.
He takes hold of your wrist to take the tissues from you. He places his thumb onto your chin to position you as he folds the tissues.
“It’s fine Matt, I enjoyed it. A lot, actually.” You grin compassionately as Matt swipes at your face with the tissues.
“I think that’s the first and last time we’re ever gonna do mushrooms, though.” He snickers, crumpling the dirty tissues and chucking them into the bin lying at the side of the bed.
“Yeah, one time thing.” You rest your head on his stomach, you rise and fall with his breathing.
"Can I braid your hair?" Matt casually inquires. "I have a bunch of charms and hair ties."
You beam a smile from ear to him, your face fills up with a cherry blossom pink.
"Yeah, of course Matt."
╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝
Author’s Note No.2: I think this will most definitely have a part 2. I have no complaints with making a series, if you haven’t already noticed with me always bringing up pins n’ needles. This took me a while to write because I’ve been busy with exams and social life. But I finally completed one after 2 weeks!!! Yayyy!! ‘Till next time, pooks.
༝༚༝༚, Maxine.
Taglist: @gamermattsgf @luverboychris @worldlxvlys @chrissystur @chaosisalwayscrying @bellasfavbisexual @luvmxtt @tillies33ssss @breeloveschris
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mindfullycriminal · 2 days
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Birthday Meal
Summary: When Spencer reminisces about the meal his grandmother made for him every year and how it’s still his favorite food, you decide to recreate the memory.
Tags: Fluff, no use of y/n or pronouns for reader
Spencer had brought it up so randomly, a wistful expression on his face as he mentioned the meal his grandmother used to make for him every year on his birthday and how it was still his favorite meal. It was an entire meal - an appetizer, main course with sides, completed with soft cookies and a kid friendly mixed drink. When he tells you he wished he’d been old enough to get the recipes before she died, you know what you have to do.
First, you contact his mother. You’ve met before and write her letters every week, so the doctors at the sanitarium have no issue with a short phone call. She remembers the meal, but not the recipe, but she gives you the number to Spencer’s uncle, and promises she won’t tell. Spencer’s uncle hands the phone to his wife, and while she has part of the recipe (the appetizer and sides), she doesn’t have it all. But she thinks a distant cousin would, so you call another relative you’ve never met, and talk to each member of that family as they reminisce about the foods they used to eat on their birthdays. (You’re amazed that every member seems to have a completely new meal, made specifically for them.) You get the drink recipe and the main dish from them, but you’re still missing the cookies.
They’re trying to think of who you could call when Spencer’s mother calls you back, saying she had found a note in her old journal about the cookies, and that you’re allowed to read all about the celebration. She says it’s already in the mail to you and just asks that you return the journal when you can. You wonder why she didn’t just copy the recipe down for you, or verbally tell you, but you thank her all the same and promise to let her know how your cooking attempts go.
Before you can start planning, the uncle you called earlier calls again and asks for your address. He says part of the special meal was that everyone had their own plate, and he found Spencer’s up in the attic. He also says his wife wrote down the exact brands used, and you thank him profusely. Within a week, you have the journal from his mother and the package from his uncle. The cousins have also added something to the package, apparently an old mixing spoon that’s been passed down from the time of the Depression. Between all of them, you’ve got the recipes and most of the specific brands used. You hide the special lavender plate and glass, wondering if this is why Spencer loves purple so much, giddy with excitement and nervous for your surprise.
It’s a strange meal altogether - not something you personally would have ever put together, but the way Spencer had talked about it, the way he’d looked as he remembered something good from his childhood wasn’t something you’d forget.
His birthday was coming up soon, and he’d asked if you two could stay in, surprised at your enthusiastic agreement. He went to work that day, after you’d woken him up with excited birthday kisses, and you had verified with Penelope that they would do something for him at lunch. You were still slightly angry that they had forgotten his 30th birthday. Really though, you just needed to make sure they wouldn’t try to take him out after hours, you wanted your surprise to work.
The recipe is somehow complicated and simplistic at the same time- truthfully it’s not many ingredients, but it’s a long process, true grandmother-style cooking — slaving over a hot stove all day. You briefly wonder if you could speed things along with a crockpot, but ultimately decide to stick to the recipe, following it to a T.
Penelope texts you when Spencer leaves the office, giving you time to dress up and finish setting the table. You have a hand made banner hung on the wall, a detail that you discovered through reading his mother’s journal, and fresh flowers that match the plate. His mother is having a good day, and the doctors have approved a short video call when Spencer gets in. You sit by the window until you see Spencer walking up the sidewalk, then rush to call his mom. When you hear the key turn in the door, you flip your screen around, and the two of you shout “Happy Birthday!” as soon as he walks in.
Spencer blushes immediately, surprised and smiling. You kiss his cheek before handing him your tablet, telling him to talk to his mom while you finish plating dinner, and warn him not to come into the kitchen, but to let you know when he’s ready. Thirty minutes later, when he calls out hesitantly to you, just now noticing the banner and the bouquet of flowers, you come out of the kitchen smiling, telling him to sit and close his eyes.
He rolls them at you, but complies, even covering them with one large hand, jumping slightly when you sneak in a kiss. You hurriedly bring out all the dishes, setting them around and finally set the special plate down in front of him. You pour the layered drink into his glass as Spencer twitches and squirms in his seat, asking if he could please look now. He laughs when you tell him to be patient, curious as to what in the world you’re doing and wondering why he’s nostalgic over the scent of whatever it is you’ve made.
When you finally let him open his eyes, he looks to see you standing nervously, hands wringing together as you wait to see his reaction. He does a double take at the spread before him, and his eyes widen into saucers when he sees his place setting.
“Happy birthday, my love” you say softly, still nervous and smiling shyly.
Spencer stands so suddenly the chair he was on falls to the ground but he doesn’t care, lunging for you to crush you against him. He’s trying to hide the tears falling from his eyes as he squeezes you close to him, whispering his thanks over and over. He’s overwhelmed with memories he thought he’d forgotten - his plate, the banner, the way the drink looked in his glass.
When he pulls back from you, you’re concerned at his glassy eyes but he doesn’t give you the chance to ask, kissing you deeply and with all the emotion he feels. When you break apart, he’s smiling the wide smile that transforms his whole face, and you’re relieved that he seems to be happy. He fixes his chair, and asks you to tell him how you did all this, thanking you again. You fuss at him first, fixing his plate exactly how the journal had been written. There had been a few photographs of one of the last celebrations, and you were pleased with your recreation. The trouble you’d gone through with talking to his family (who had continued to call you, remembering strange details in the weeks leading up to tonight), tracking down exact brands - some that could only be found online, burning yourself on the main dish - none of it matters at all when you see how Spencer is looking at you.
Spencer honestly doesn’t care how the meal tastes, although it’s somehow better than he remembered. You tell him you added in extra love, and that the wooden spoon you’d used to mix the ingredients must have contained some too. His mouth drops open at the spoon, before he tells you a family story about how a wooden spoon became so meaningful.
He continually thanks you, unsure how to express his gratitude, and he lets you take photos to send to all the family members who helped you, forcing you into his lap for the last one, gripping your waist tightly as you both smile, looking at each other.
Softly, Spencer tells you this is his new favorite birthday, and one he swears he will remember every detail of forever.
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gothwineaunts · 2 days
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I tried my best to replicate the post that Tumblr ate earlier.
It’s not as good but you'll get the jist I think. :’)  
---
Hi again! I wanted to follow up on my post from yesterday. I’ve been mostly offline since then, and I feel much better now, especially after seeing the thoughtful responses y’all left. Where did you all even come from!? I don’t think I’ve ever posted this account anywhere, haha. But thank you so much. I’m horrendous at taking a damn compliment but I read all the replies and reblogs and I’m just incredibly humbled. You all brought up my mood a lot and highkey made me feel sane again. I’ve been so confused at why everyone in the WEBTOON comments seems to be so mad all the time, it kind of does my head in if I’m being honest.
But please don’t worry about me or Flynn. Or about Nevermore! We’d never change the story to fit what we think the commenters want us to do, for a lot of reasons. The most important of which is. If we had to do that, I think we’d rather just stop making it. What they seem to want is a story we’re not really interested in telling.
Wholesome wlw is a wildly important thing to be able to find if you’re looking for it. That really cannot be overstated. Until very recently, queer characters have been subjected by popular media to a disproportionate amount of anguish and violence. So the concept of seeing two women just, living a safe and fulfilling life together? I get why people want to see that so badly. And there’s so much beautifully written aspirational content for queer audiences out there now, and I’m pleased to death over it. But the thing is, it’s just not what we’re making.
Nevermore was always intended to be a dark gothicky romance with horror elements. Like Wuthering Heights, or Phantom of the Opera. Because those were the stories that always inspired us when we were young. Bloodsoaked stories of melodrama, intrigue, grief, and passion. Those stories would captivate me and get me asking all kinds of questions. Why can’t the Phantom be a beautiful woman? Why does Christine have the agency of a desk lamp? Why can’t sapphics have something cool like this?
So we decided to make it. Nevermore is not a wholesome romance. It doesn’t try to be. The point was never to explore sapphics having a healthy and (heavy air quotes here) “normal” relationship, like heterosexual couples get to have in real life. We already have that, together, Flynn and I. We live it, everyday.  In Nevermore, what we wanted most was to explore a sweeping sapphic romance full of danger, like heterosexual couples get to have in fiction. That’s why we love those kinds of stories so much, because of how divorced they are from the mundanity of real life. They’re fantasies.
I know that I'm preaching to the choir, aha.
But my point is: if you go to a hardware store to order a cake, you’re probably going to be disappointed. If what you crave is aspirational wlw content, there are so many bakeries you can go to that will give you exactly what you’re hoping for, and more. I especially recommend Muted by Miranda Mundt. It’s also on Webtoon, it’s completed, and it’s free to read.
And please know that I’m not saying to stop reading Nevermore, just maybe to adjust your expectations a little bit. We don’t sell cakes here, but I am pretty sure I've got a few 12ft tall skeleton lawn ornaments in the back if you're interested.
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trashmouth-richie · 2 days
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eddie x reader ; a very light hint of steve x reader
a follow up to this which is a follow up of this
tw 18+ content, tied up, temperature play, steve is baby girl himbo in this very s3 coded, eddie is jealous + mean.
“that tickles, wow, cold— ow, very very cold— shit, shit!”
You slap a hand over his mouth, wide eyes staring into yours as if he is scared beyond belief.
“Shhhhh..” you press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. 
Your body was pressed in his, an ice cube held limply in your fingers as you traced it along his veiny shaft. Leaving goosebumps on his summer tanned skin. 
“Eddie is home, do you want him to know that we’re fooling around? Cause I prefer to keep my bedroom adventures private.”
“No, no! You’re right, it’s just— really cold, when you said you wanted to get freaky I thought maybe you had a friend or something to go up my ass? I don’t know!” 
You stare at him, waiting for him to say he was kidding but it never came. You sit up, the ice melting on your fingers dripping onto his sack, little whimpers from his mouth. 
“Alright… King Steve is curious about assplay, noted. We can unpack that another time— for now, it’s either the ice or nothing, you choose.” 
You kiss his chest, waiting for him to decide. He’s mumbling to himself, and you work your fingers in between the tufts of hair, eyes on him, your nipples skimming over his hot skin. 
“…okay! Okay fine! Can I kiss you maybe?” 
Steve was stretched like a voodoo doll across your bed, large hands tied to each bed post, unable to reach you, his lip in a pout as he attempted to wiggle his wrists free. 
“Keep trying to get out of your restraints and you won’t be kissing me anywhere.”
He huffed, a strand of caramel hair tousling into his forehead, “I mean they’re tight— like really tight, you sure this is normal?”
You rolled your eyes and sat up again to examine the human ken doll that was played by Steve Harrington for the evening. 
His wrists were red, fingers pale… fuck. 
You tug at the knots, trying to wedge your fingers beneath them, and after five minutes of you trying you could see Steve’s hands looking worse.
“Alright— don’t panic!” you announced, sliding from the bed and pushing your arms through the red silk robe hanging from your closet, “and don’t move…. I’ll be…” scissors! “yeah, I’ll be right back!”
“What!? You can’t just leave me like th—!” he hollers your name and you try to muffle his calls of distress by shutting your door quickly.
Eddie was in his room, you could hear him playing his guitar— and he prayed he didn’t hear the muffled pleas from Steve. 
Rifling through the kitchen junk drawer you find everything but the scissors. Chopsticks from too many late night orders of chinese takeout, ketchup packets, pens, a pack of markers, Eddie’s fake ID he had in high school, Wayne’s expired ID he tried to use at the gas station when you were sixteen and more rope. 
The pair of you didn’t own a knife set, never having cooked anything that required culinary skills— you were at a loss— the only option left was to ask Eddie for his pocket knife. Goddamnit.
The walk to his room felt like miles long, and honestly you would have preferred if you never got there. His door was open, the low times of his acoustic guitar filled the air along with a haze of smoke. 
A quick rap on his door and Eddie was looking up at you, cigarette limp from his lips, as he motions to the other side of his room with a nod of his head. 
“…ham & pineapple no pepperonis, cash on the dresser.” 
“What? Oh yeah, sure— forgot it’s Friday. Hey, ummm. I need a favor.” 
Eddie smirks and shakes his head, “I’m not loaning you anymore bud, you already owe you twenty.” 
“No— I’m not here for free weed, I need your knife.” 
His eyebrows quirk and he waits for you to ask his silent “why?”
“It’s an emergency.” 
“Your boss sucks sweetheart, 100%— but you can’t kill him.” 
“Eddie shut up,” you whine, stomping your foot, “I just need to borrow it—I'll give it right back!”
He rolls his eyes, leaning over to grab his knife from his back pocket, “tell me what you need it for.” 
You stare at him, mouth open, “I…can’t.” 
“Okay? and why not?”
Your name is heard in a wail from your room and your cheeks heat with embarrassment. 
“is someone in there?”
Scrubbing your hands down your face you finally admit it, “Yes! Jesus fuck! Now will you please either help me or give me the knife, he’s stuck!”
It takes everything in Eddie to try not to laugh, but he simple hides his lips and nods, thinking to himself what kid. of shit you’d gotten into now, and with who?
He follows you into your room, watching your form move beneath the silk robe, trying to keep his eyes from staring too long or imagining what lie beneath the thin fabric. 
Your eyes are covered when you open the door so you miss the shock on Steve’s face to see his best friend walk into your room. His dick is still out, laying against his hairy thigh, and the only thing he can do is an awkward jock head nod followed by a “sup?”
Thankful that he has a good poker face, Eddie nods back, ears crimson in anger, biting his tongue as he flips the blade out with flare. Behind his dark eyes He was fuming. 
Steve? 
STEVE HARRINGTON?
Of all people you could have tied up in here in some makeshift attempt at whatever you thought you were doing— it had to be him.
Heads would fucking roll when this was over and him and Steve were alone. 
Slicing through the ropes like they were nothing, Eddie simply raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, leaving with his mind grinding like gears on how to stop this from happening again. 
“Thanks for calling Family Video. Our hours are 10-10 Sunday through Saturday, stop in to rent our latest releases, this is St—”
“Harrington.”
“Hey man, hey— thanks for uh, helping me out the other night. I really o—”
“Yeah, you do,” the cord bounces on the floor as Eddie turns the corner, looking back at you in the living room asleep on the couch— walking to his room,  “that’s why whenever she calls… you are going to make up whatever excuse that big hair of yours can..”
“Wait..?”
Eddie grits your name out through clenched teeth. 
“If she calls to hang out, you will find a reason not to, y’ catch my drift, pal?” 
“Ye-yeah, sure thing… what should I say?”
“I don’t care Harrington, make something up… tell her you have a girlfriend, you have the measles, I really don’t give a fuck what it is, as long as I never have to walk into her room and see your dick again.”
Steve narrows his eyes, blurring the neon lights in the video store, “dude, what the hell?” 
“Sarah is single— I’ll give you her numb—”
“Okay? But so is she, why are you acting like an asshole right now?”
You. He was being a dick because of you. Sick and tired of you not willing to admit you both had feelings for eachother, and he was ready to pull out the big guns in order to make it happen. 
“Don’t worry about it.” 
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sweetmourninglambie · 9 hours
Text
☆ in the cold, cold night
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ghostface! e. williams x fem! reader
a/n: sorry this took actual months and is genuinely the worst thing i’ve ever written but it’s DONEEEE!
warnings: HEAVY CONTENT— READ TAGS! ghostface ellie, serial killer els, threats of murder, breaking and entering, rough treatment, cussing, use of switchblade, gun used for questionable acts, toxic relationship, dubious consent, slapping, grabbing, cutting of clothing, mentions of blood, switchblade briefly used on reader, gun fucking lol, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), many threats of violence, and so much more so DNI IF YOU DONT WANT TO!
wc: 9.6k
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Even with the calm sound of the leaves rustling from the light breeze, you couldn’t help but continue to look back over your shoulder to ensure that no one was behind you. 
It was a nervous habit you had picked up after the murders began in your small town. You felt as if there was no amount of caution that would protect you from the psycho killer that was brutally ending innocent lives. 
The thoughts had flooded your mind so much that you had momentarily forgotten your girlfriend was right beside you, her fingers interlaced with your own as she carried out her usual routine of walking you home after classes were over. 
Your head was still turned back so that you could observe the people walking behind you, only being met with the sight of a students who you had seen around campus a few times. Ellie must have been trying to get your attention for a while, as she finally waved her hand in front of your face to snap you out of your trance. 
“Jesus fucking christ, I thought you were listening to me that whole time. Did you hear anything I said?” she questioned, a light chuckle leaving her lips despite her harsh words. Your eyes widened in the slightest when her voice finally reached you, flinching momentarily since you hadn’t expected the sudden sound. 
Ellie quickly snapped her head back in the direction you had previously been looking in, her brows furrowing to convey her confusion before looking back at you. “You’re acting like we have a stalker or something. Do you know something I don't?” she asked in her usual joking tone, your body relaxing in the slightest from how at ease Ellie seemed. 
“M’ sorry for not listening, I’m just a little scared— you know? All the people who have been killed are people we knew” you mumbled, lowering your gaze towards the orange leaves that were scattered all along the sidewalk. Ellie couldn’t stop the light scoff that passed her lips, almost seeming too relaxed despite the fact that you were absolutely right. 
“We didn’t know them that well” she added swiftly, a slight smile creeping onto her lips before she spoke once more. “Plus, it's not all bad. Classes are canceled till those dumbass cops can figure out what the fuck is going on. And considering the fact that they only know what costume the killer is wearing, we probably won’t have to worry about classes for the rest of the year” she blurted without the slightest bit of hesitation. 
It wasn’t unlike Ellie to be so sarcastic but you couldn't shake the nerves that were flooding your body, a small frown appearing on your lips despite her attempt to ease the tension. “S’ not like they’re gonna be missed anyways. Those jock assholes got what was coming to them. Shit, maybe we should be thanking ghostfa—” she began, although her words never managed to connect in your mind. 
You were far too distracted, as you had finally looked up at Ellie only to notice the slightest bit of blood seeping from a small gash that was covered by her hair. “Oh my god, what happened?” you questioned in a worried tone, your brows knitting together as you let go of her hand so you could try to observe her injury. With careful movements, you pushed her hair back only to find that the wound was far worse than you thought. 
There was a purplish hue surrounding it, dried blood having collected into the roots of her auburn hair. You couldn’t understand why you hadn’t noticed it earlier, only being brought out of your thoughts when Ellie pulled your hand away from her face ever so gently. “S’ nothing serious, baby. Just got into a little disagreement with someone yesterday” she muttered in a careless manner, trying to play it off as smoothly as possible. 
It wasn’t as if it was the most incomprehensible idea, as Ellie was known for her short temper and rather aggressive approach to resolving issues. However, that didn’t stop the small pout from appearing on your features, your eyes still lingering on the cut as you spoke. “You told me you were going to stop getting into fights” you huffed, not taking hold of her hand before you continued to walk in the direction of your home. 
Ellie was quick to follow after you, catching up to you before you could get too far from her. “I said I would try to stop getting into fights. There is a big difference” she retorted, wrapping her arm around your waist before using the back of her free hand to wipe off the smallest bit of blood that had dripped down her forehead. You only rolled your eyes at her words, grumbling a soft “whatever” in reply. 
The two of you had finally reached your home just as Ellie was about to make another excuse, and you were already pulling away from her so that you could make your way inside without her. Ellie wasn’t having any of that, pulling you back rather roughly so that you were facing her. “Can I come over later tonight, bun? I was thinkin’ maybe we could watch a scary movie together” she muttered, attempting to make you forget the fact that you were upset with her. 
It didn’t work all that well, as you shook your head quickly at the request. “Not tonight” you sighed, squirming in the slightest from how tightly she was holding you. Ellie didn’t seem pleased with your reply, her sweet demeanor dropping completely as a frown took the place of her previous smile. “Why not? Are you seeing someone else tonight?” she questioned in an accusing manner, her grip only tightening as you tried to get her to ease up. 
“No— I am not having anyone else over tonight” you scoffed, looking at her with an unamused expression. “I already told you that my parents are gone for the whole week and you know their rules” you began, only to be cut off by a low groan leaving Ellie’s lips. “No having your girlfriend over after dark” she mocked the rule your parents had made up the minute the two of you began dating, her voice making her irritation evident. 
You shot her a quick glare but nodded your head nonetheless, watching as Ellie tried to find the right words to convince you to just disobey your parents this one time. “How would they even know? Promise I won’t tell on you” she said with a cocky smile, as she had lied to your parents faces countless times after helping you sneak out at night to come over to her place.
 “I can’t take any chances after they caught you coming in through the window last week, Els. They still have me on house arrest for that” you whined in reply, not wanting to fight with Ellie about this any longer. 
Ellie’s reaction was anything but sweet, as she rolled her eyes and finally released the hold she had on you rather carelessly so that you stumbled in the slightest. “I don’t fucking get it— you’re in college and they treat you like you’re still just a kid” she grumbled, not at all pleased with the fact that you always insisted on following their rules. 
Your eyes narrowed at her words, a small sigh leaving your lips as you took in Ellie’s annoyed expression. You usually made an effort to not bicker with her over small things but she had been frustrating you more than usual as of late. 
With the way she was constantly ignoring your calls and clearly lying about what she had been doing these past few nights, you knew something was up. You were just as upset as she was and you should’ve bitten your tongue and shoved it down as you usually did, but you just couldn’t. 
“Not all of us can do whatever we want to, Ellie. Don’t try to give me shit just because you don’t have anyone back at home to give you rules to follow” you spat without thinking, your eyes widening the moment the words left your lips. 
It had been almost a year since Ellie’s only father figure, Joel, had been killed, the case never being solved which had left your girlfriend with a massive sense of resentment towards everyone and everything. She rarely opened up about it to you, but you already knew how much it ate away at her. 
It was a low blow but it was all you had in that moment. You just wanted to shut her up or maybe just piss her off enough that she finally explained her strange behavior. Despite your nervous expression, you stood your ground and offered her no apologies for your words. 
Ellie had momentarily gone silent— her lack of response putting you on edge as you awaited her reaction. People continued passing the two of you by as you stood in front of your home, the soft buzz of their conversation sounding far away due to the deafening silence Ellie had left you with. 
Her previous expression already showed her irritation, but once your words finally set in it changed rapidly. A little crease appeared between her brows, her breathing suddenly becoming uneven as she looked down at your unremorseful expression. 
It was a strange sight, as Ellie was always quick to find some hurtful reply to hit you with before you could even blink. She leaned back for a moment as if to take you in before moving in closer, her nails digging into her own palms as she clenched her fists at her sides. 
Your body was tingling with nerves, your eyes darting around every inch of Ellie’s infuriated expression. Her stare alone filled you with guilt and you tried to finally push some sort of apology out, but she was quick to cut you off. 
“You are such a fucking cunt” she spat, the disgust in her tone so prominent that you felt beyond humiliated. Over the course of your relationship with Ellie, you had grown accustomed to her outbursts. Whether it be calling you names or her picking a fight with you for absolutely no reason— she always found a way to piss you off. And yet this time it felt so different, as you had never dared to talk back to her before. 
Ellie backed up after she spoke, her piercing gaze tearing you apart so that you were left feeling embarrassed and exposed as you stood before her. “You always pull shit like this. Someone needs to teach you to stop running your fucking mouth” she said in a low tone, not even giving you a chance to reply before she started walking away from your home so that she could get back to her own. 
For a moment you acted on instinct, taking a small step to follow after her. You snapped out of it after you moved, only letting your eyes trail after her as she moved away. On any other occasion you would have pleaded for her forgiveness, but you were done with putting up with her constant shifts in mood. 
It felt as if you weren’t even in control of your body as you moved towards your home, unlocking the door with a blank expression on your face while your mind ran rampant over how Ellie had spoken to you. She had reacted differently than she usually would, as she had a tendency to raise her voice just to prove a point. And yet, she had kept an eerily calm demeanor as she spoke down to you. 
Some part of you wished she would have yelled or made some sort of empty threat, as her quiet reaction left you feeling nauseous. You knew dwelling on it wouldn’t make it any better, a soft huff leaving your lips as you dropped your bag on the side of the couch so that you could lay down. 
You turned on the television to have some background noise while you checked your phone, the news playing quietly as you fought with yourself on whether or not to text Ellie. Your thumb hovered over her contact, a frustrated groan leaving your lips before you shoved your phone between one of the couch cushions in an attempt to keep yourself from even thinking about speaking to her. 
Ellie was the one who had started all of this— not you. She was the one who had been disappearing for hours on end with pathetic excuses as to where she had been. You didn’t owe her anything, even if you had momentarily slipped up and said something hurtful. She had said absolutely vile things to you countless times and you never reacted the way she did. 
If she really wanted to fix whatever the fuck was happening between the two of you, she would just do it. You couldn’t make excuses for her anymore, as you had grown tired of her constant anger. 
You were a bit dazed as you stared at the screen in front of you, the low volume making it hard for you to understand what they were even saying. It was as if your mental exhaustion was manifesting into something physical, as your eyelids were heavy with the need for sleep. There was no way you could be bothered to close the curtains in your living room, your eyes fluttering closed as you continued to think about Ellie. 
Maybe this was for the best— the relationship you shared with her was anything but sweet. There was always something off about Ellie that you couldn’t quite discern and in all honesty, you were somewhat scared of her. You loved her a little too much and you had spent too long making excuses for her.
This whole argument had blown up in your face, and even as you drifted off you couldn’t help but think about how this was beginning to seem like a means to an end. 
-
Your heart was slamming against your chest as you were abruptly woken up by the loud ringing of your phone sounding throughout the dark living room. The only other noise within the space was the quiet hum of the tv, your eyes flickering towards the bright screen to try and focus on what was playing. 
With squinted eyes you read the breaking news title that read ‘GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN!’ in crimson lettering, the vibrant red and blue police lights flashing on screen as they played a live feed of what was going on. 
The sight alone had you sitting up straight, your phone long forgotten as you scrambled to find the remote. You held down the volume button so that you could turn it up, leaning your body towards the TV as the newscasters described the situation at hand. It was hard to make out the words in your sleepy state, your fist coming up to rub the sleep from your eyes as you did your best to listen. 
You could only make out a few words—- a real life horror movie, another tragedy, gruesome, unlike anything we have seen before, and yet another college student has been lost. All of the words sounded strung together and they left you feeling uneasy, your eyes zeroing in on the screen so that you could get more details that would inevitably lead to you being paranoid all night. 
A shiver ran through your body from how cold the room was, your eyes finally flickering away from the screen so that you were looking at the window closest to where you were sitting. The thin curtains moved with the small breeze that was passing through, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin. 
Why can’t you remember opening that window? 
Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing once more, the sudden disruption making you let out a soft gasp. After you realized what the sound was, you let out somewhat of a nervous laugh at how dramatic you were being over the whole situation. 
There had to be an explanation for the window— as you did have a tendency to be rather forgetful and the phone calls were more than likely just scams. 
Nonetheless, you shifted around so that you could shove your hand between the sofa cushions, finally managing to yank your phone out so that you could find out who was insisting you at such a late hour. You were given no satiation to your curiosity, as you were greeted with the sight of No Caller ID instead of an actual number. 
It still provided you with a sense of relief, although some part of you had been hoping that Ellie was the one who had been so insistent on you picking up her calls. You declined the call, as you had seen too many horror movies thanks to your girlfriend's love for slasher flicks— and you refused to end up like those girls who die within the first 15 minutes since they pick up some unknown phone call. 
You dropped your phone back down onto the couch, doing your best to continue to listen to the news report as you made your way towards the window. Your hands were just about to push the window closed but you were distracted by what sounded like footsteps coming from inside your house. The sound made you whip your head back, your breath picking up within a split second. 
Fear was tingling throughout your entire body, your fingertips suddenly feeling numb as they pressed lightly against the window. The sound had disappeared just as quickly as it had come and for a moment you were able to convince yourself that it had just been some sort of hallucination. You had already been a little paranoid after seeing the latest breaking news and it was halloween time— of course you were bound to scare yourself a bit. 
Just as the tension was leaving your body, the silence was broken by your phone ringing once more. You flinched in the slightest from how startled you were, a quiet curse leaving your lips as you discarded your previous task to grab your phone instead. 
It was another blocked number and you momentarily thought about declining it once more, but curiosity was beginning to get the best of you. Against your better judgment, you accepted the call and pressed your phone against your ear. 
“Hello?” you called out in a meek voice, the quiet sound of breathing on the other side of the line being the only greeting when you first spoke. “Who is this?” the voice questioned, sounding somewhat distorted but you assumed it was just your shitty phone service. “Well who are you trying to reach?” you asked in return, settling down onto the couch. 
A low chuckle sounded from your phone, the person who was speaking to you seeming surprised by your question. “If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you who I’m trying to talk to” the disembodied voice quipped— and for a moment you could have sworn the person's voice was familiar. A light scoff left your lips, far too tired to stay on the phone with a creep who has nothing better to do than bother you. 
“Sorry dude, I think you’ve got the wrong number. Take it easy” you muttered in reply, already pulling your phone away from your ear so that they had no time to respond. You set your phone on the coffee table so that you close the window, your hands slamming down the window harshly enough that the sound of it seemed to reverberate through the eerily silent house for far longer than it should’ve. 
Just as you picked up your phone so that you could head upstairs to get to your bedroom, your phone began to buzz. You were growing frustrated with the calls now, your eyes narrowing as the lack of caller ID made itself known once more. For whatever reason, you picked up the phone once more and you were greeted by what you could only assume was the same voice of the person who was speaking to you before. “Why don’t you want to talk to me?” the voice questioned, their tone sounding a bit mocking which only added to your frustration. “Not a big fan of talking to strangers on the phone” you shot back quickly, your eyes focusing on the stairway that was just a few feet away. 
“There's no way you want to be left alone though” they said calmly, not giving you any space to add another snarky remark before they continued. “I mean, you’re all alone in that big house on the corner. Now that just can’t be safe for a scared little thing like you” they breathed, the words coming out so nonchalant that if you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have missed what was right in front of you. 
Your eyes widened once her words finally set in, your head immediately turning back to look at the window you had closed moments ago. “What did you just say?” you asked in a meek voice, your lips parting in the slightest so you could breathe a bit easier as your heart pounded against your chest. “Do you really need me to repeat myself, princess?” they questioned and this time you knew you had heard this voice before. Their condescending tone was something you had heard countless times, yet who had been the person to speak to you in such a way was barely on the tip of your tongue. 
Within a second of the fear finally taking over every last bit of your body, your finger was roughly pressing against your phone screen to end the call. You dropped your phone back onto the couch as if it was some sort of cursed object, your body seeming to move without your permission as you started rushing to each window you were near to make sure they were locked. It took a moment for you to gain enough courage to peer in the direction of the front door, the lock perfectly in place much to your relief. 
There wasn’t any time to relax, as your phone continued to ring as you moved around your home. It was all too overwhelming, the sound of the television mixing with the sound of your ringtone to create a garbled mess that only added to your already agitated state. You could feel a headache taking form as you practically tiptoed back towards the living room to avoid making an unnecessary noise. 
You knew it was idiotic to pick up a call from someone who practically confessed to knowing where you lived but some part of you was convinced you could still beg them to leave you alone. With shaky movements, you answered the call and backed yourself into the corner of the room so that you wouldn’t have to worry about someone coming up from behind you. 
“It’s a little too late to be making sure the house is all locked up, don’t you think?” the voice began the moment you pressed your phone to your ear, your whole body shaking from the shiver that overtook you. They were in your fucking house— and they were watching you. Before you had picked up the call you had the slightest bit of hope that this person was playing some kind of sick joke, but there was no way they could’ve just guessed what you were doing so easily. “Jeez, you’re already watching my latest hit. You must be a big fan of my work, huh?” they added on, clearly referencing the horrific news story that you had previously been engrossed in. 
Your chest began to heave as they revealed that they were the one person you feared the most, your nerves twisting with your rising frustration to create an awful mix of emotions that tore at your insides. “Listen asshole, my girlfriend is coming over any minute and she will kick your ass!” you lied, practically shouting into the phone although your voice shook in the slightest despite your attempt to sound intimidating. It wasn’t as if the person in your home knew what plans you had for the night, right?
“Oh no, not your girlfriend! I'm so scared” the killer said in a sarcastic tone, seeming completely unphased by your threat. Your brows furrowed at their reply, as you were done being toyed with. You took one final look at your surroundings to ensure there was no ghostly figure that was about to jump out at you before you sprinted towards the kitchen, your gaze landing on the set of large kitchen knives that sat on top of the kitchen counter. 
The space was only lit up by the moon that was shining through the window but you didn’t want to slow down to turn on the lights, your hand reaching for the largest knife and extending it outwards rather clumsily as if it would protect you from the invisible force you were fighting against. “Fuck you” you spat into the phone, already pulling the phone away from your face so that you could call the cops and get the fuck out of the house but your actions were quickly halted. 
“If you hang up on me one more time, I swear to god I will gut you like a fucking fish” they seethed, the threat making your hand tremble in the slightest as you brought the phone to your ear once more. It was as if all those horror movies you watched with Ellie countless times had taught you nothing, as all you could do was stand completely still while every part of your brain screamed at you to run out of the house as fast as you possibly could. 
The moment of silence was filled by the sound of creaking that now sounded as if it was coming from somewhere near you, your breath hitching in your throat as your grip on the large knife tightened. You couldn’t keep up a strong facade any longer, hot tears rolling down your cheeks before you could make any attempt to conceal them. Soft sniffles were all you could offer, as you weren’t exactly sure that speaking first was the best idea after the last words they had spoken to you. 
“Look at you, following my directions nice n’ easy. Your girlfriend must’ve trained you to behave so well” the distorted voice cooed, almost managing to sound truly affectionate. You let out a pitiful cry at the menacing words, the fight between you and Ellie that had occurred earlier in the day filling your mind. If you had just let her come over, none of this would be happening. All you could see was the look of sheer anger that had overtaken Ellie’s features when you had spewed those hurtful words to her and you would give anything to be able to take it all back. Tonight could’ve been spent curled up at her side on the couch with some cheesy horror movie playing on tv but instead, you were living in one. 
You just wanted to hear Ellie’s voice at this moment, to have her tell you what to do to defend yourself. She was always telling you that you needed to be able to fend for yourself but you had never taken her seriously and now you were left with the overwhelming consequence of your actions. The thoughts had consumed you so much that you hadn’t even given a proper reply, although your silence didn’t seem to offend the person on the other side of the phone.
“What? Got nothin’ to say now, baby? I wanted to hear more about that girlfriend of yours but you can’t even speak properly” they muttered in a false tone of disappointment, a small sigh passing their lips before continuing on. “How about we play a little game? If you win, I’ll leave you alone— but if you get it wrong, m’ gonna have to kill you” they spoke in a relaxed tone, making your death sound as if it was going to be nothing more than a chore to them. 
“I don’t want to play any games with you— please, just leave me alone. I won’t tell anyone about this, I swear” you pleaded, hiccups interrupting your words as you continued to cry. You were desperate to stop the tears, as they were blurring your vision further which made it practically impossible to see anything around you as you stood in the dark kitchen. A light scoff sounded from the phone which caused you to jump in the slightest, every little thing now scaring you beyond belief. 
“Well if you really don’t want to play, I’ll just have to kill you. It takes the fun out of it for me but if that's how you want to do it—” the voice began to taunt you once more and you were quick to cut them off, shaking your head feverishly as if they could see you, and in all honesty they probably could see you. “No, I’ll play!” you practically shouted, praying that whatever game they chose would be somewhat fair. 
Your eyes were darting around the dark space around you as if someone would jump out at any moment, your heart beating so harshly against your chest that you were almost positive it would burst through in a few seconds if you didn’t calm down. “Alright, make sure to listen cause I really don’t like repeating myself. There's four closets in your house, so go ahead and guess which one I’m in” they demanded, their confession of being inside already making your blood run cold. 
It was completely unfair to make you think at a time like this, your mind so muddled that you were practically whining at their question. How the fuck were you supposed to know where they were? You knew there was no chance of you making it out alive if you didn’t at least try to guess where they were hiding. It was only a little while ago that you had heard creaking downstairs— or was it upstairs? A frustrated groan left your lips, your shaking hand lowering the knife as you tried to think back to the moment when you had heard it.  
“Upstairs! You’re upstairs in my bedroom closet, the room on the left” you blurted without thinking it through, your eyes widening as you realized you had just taken your life into your own hands. “Ah— so close! But still wrong” they shot back quickly and you were almost positive they were smiling as they spoke. 
You were full blown sobbing now, raising your arm so that the knife was facing away from you once more as you tried to figure out what to do. There was a chance that they were still in the other closet that was upstairs which meant you could hang up on them, call the police, and run like hell before they had the chance to catch up to you. Or they could already be downstairs and there was no time to call the police. You remained silent as the options ran through your mind, the killer never once interrupting your train of thought which you were rather grateful for. 
After what seemed like hours of contemplating every little detail, you took a deep breath in and checked your surroundings one last time. Darkness seemed to consume all that you could see and that only caused your adrenaline to rise further. Your movements were done so quickly that you hadn’t even registered what you were doing until you were ending the call, shoving your phone into your back pocket before you took off towards the front door as quickly as you possibly could. 
You weren’t even wearing any shoes but you couldn’t be bothered to care with your life on the line, the knife you were holding remained in front of you in a defensive manner as you moved through your home. The front door was in your line of sight and it was so close— you could practically feel the cool autumn air that was waiting for you just outside the door. You were so close to being free, your tears continuing to fall but from relief rather than fear. 
This fucked up night could finally be over and you wouldn’t stop running until your lungs gave out on you. All you could think of was Ellie as you reached for the doorknob, already imagining how worried she would be when you told her about everything that happened tonight. Your hand was mere inches from the door, your fingertips barely grazing the cool metal of the doorknob before your motions were disrupted by the sound of a door swinging open. 
The cloaked figure lunged at you the moment they came into view, the sight of the white mask filling you with utter terror as they dragged you away from the door. You were screaming as loud as possible, doing your best to alert your neighbors about what was going on. They were far stronger than you were despite the strength provided by your adrenaline, as they were able to grasp your wrist so that you were unable to make any attempts to swipe at them with the knife you were holding onto. Before you could realize what the killer was doing, they grabbed your phone from your back pocket and slammed it against the ground so that it was reduced to a shattered mess that you were left unable to use. 
You were squirming around relentlessly, trying to free yourself from the bruising grip they had on you. They had gotten you pinned up against the wall to the side of the front door, knocking the last bit of air out of your lungs from how forceful they were being. It had taken an incredible amount of energy for you to finally manage to free one of your wrists from the hold they had on it, although it was devoid of any weapon. 
Your hand raised towards the ghostly mask, half expecting ghostface to kill you right then and there for making an attempt to find out who they really were and yet they made no effort to stop your movements. You finally grasped the bottom of the mask, a pained squeak leaving your lips as their gloved hands dug into your soft flesh to keep you in place. In one swift motion, you managed to pull the mask off completely and you were greeted with a gut wrenching sight. 
“Surprise, baby!” Ellie said in an all too cheery tone, her voice sounding a bit breathy from having to fight to keep you still. Her usually gentle features were splattered with blood, the metallic scent filling your nose due to how close she was to your own face. Her last victim must have gotten her mask off just as she sealed their doom, as that could be the only explanation for how she had managed to become covered in their blood. She must have come straight from her last kill— the one you had just viewed on tv. 
It felt as if your world had just caved in or even exploded, you really couldn’t decide. Finding words after realizing your girlfriend was the one person you should’ve feared the most was a rather hard task, your lips parting countless times to speak and yet no words came out. Your tears had ceased to fall as you took in her slightly amused expression, your shaky hand dropping the mask onto the floor as your mind ran a mile a minute. Despite the overwhelming fear you felt, the sense of betrayal was far too much for you to keep down and it gave you just enough momentum to finally do something. 
“You fucking liar” you spat, thinking of all the times Ellie had insisted that she had simply had her phone on silent or had fallen asleep early when you didn’t hear from her for hours at a time. You had confided in her about the fear you felt about all the murders that were happening in town and she had soothed you each time, insisting that she would be there to protect you if anything were to go wrong. 
All the while, she was the one who had been causing you so many sleepless nights and she was the person who had taken so many innocent lives. A sick smile was beginning to take form on Ellie’s lips after you had spoken and you could already tell she was about to give you some sort of snarky reply. Her grip on you had relaxed ever so slightly since she believed you were too frightened to do anything and you knew this may be your only opportunity to get away from her. 
Just as she was parting her lips to speak to you, you mustered up all your strength to tug your wrist up enough so that your hand that was still gripping the knife could make contact with her skin. You couldn’t reach very far due to her quickly realizing what you were trying to do, a grunt leaving her lips as she attempted to keep you still but she was too late. With a quick movement, you were able to make a swipe at her arm that was still making an attempt to hold you, blood rushing to the surface of her skin within the blink of an eye. 
Ellie released you once the warm liquid began to drip down her arm, instinctively bringing a hand up to cover her wound before she could think about what she was doing. You didn’t wait to get her full reaction, sliding from where she had you pinned against the wall and running as if your life depended on it— and at this moment, it really did. Soft whimpers left your lips as you desperately tried to think of somewhere to hide before she caught up with you, your hand taking hold of the door leading into the garage the second she began calling out your name. 
You hid behind the door, the knife still held tightly in your right hand while you clasped your other over your own mouth. Keeping your breaths quiet seemed almost impossible but you couldn‘t risk having any slip ups. The door was left slightly ajar on purpose, as you needed to be able to see Ellie as she moved throughout the house so you could make sure she was out of the way before you tried to get back to the front door. 
Her cloaked figure was moving slowly, your name leaving her lips tauntingly as she suppressed the pained groans she so desperately wanted to let out. You had managed to cut her fairly deep and the blood soaking into her cheap halloween costume was direct proof of that. “Get out here you fucking coward” she seethed, her head whipping back towards your direction when you accidentally let out a sound of surprise at her loud voice booming throughout the home. 
Your eyes widened at the realization of your mistake, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily as if it would make Ellie disappear completely. “If you come out now, I promise to play nice” she lied in a sickeningly sweet tone, her eyes narrowing as she got closer towards the very door you were standing behind. Her footsteps were heavy as she made her way towards you, your eyes beginning to well with tears once more as she got closer. For a moment you couldn’t tell what she was doing, as she had stopped so she could take off the black cloak completely. Wearing only a black tank top and jeans, you could now see that her body was littered with bruises, the gash you had just given her smudging her arm a dark red from her cloak pressing against her skin. 
Ellie had been wearing her hoodies constantly these last few weeks but you hadn’t thought anything of it, as the chilly weather was enough to explain it away. But it explained why she had been keeping her clothes on the last few times she had managed to get you alone, always insisting that she just wanted to make you feel good. She would have you completely bare while she remained fully covered and you had never even given it a second thought. You wished that you would’ve paid more attention to all the signs pointing to her being the culprit, yet there was no way you could have ever guessed that she would even be capable of such heinous crimes. 
After taking in her injured form, you watched her hand move towards her back pocket so she could pull something out. You could see something else that was tucked in the back of her jeans but you didn’t have enough time to get a look at it, as the sound of her switchblade flicking open had you focusing your attention back on her hand that now wielded the weapon. You felt as if the breath in your lungs was being stolen from you, your body backing up slightly so you could press yourself against the wall in the hopes that she wouldn’t see you. 
Just as she was reaching for the doorknob, a noise cut through the silence that sounded like a dish clattering. You did your best to not make a single sound as she turned away from you, clearly believing that you were the one who had made the noise. For a second you believed fate was finally on your side, as one of the dishes in the sink must have slipped just enough to get her distracted. “I’ve got you now” she taunted, swiftly making her way towards the kitchen. 
A quiet breath of relief left your lips once she was out of sight, your hand moving away from your lips so that you could take in a few gulps of air before making any sudden moves. Now that you could no longer see her, you could only assume her position in the house, her footsteps sounding far enough for you to open the door a bit wider. Your eyes darted in the direction of the staircase that was just down the hall, your heart pounding in your ears as you tried to decide if it was actually even possible for you to get upstairs without alerting her. 
You would rather go for the front door but that had already proven to be the wrong move and she would already expect that from you. After a moment of contemplation, you drew in a deep breath that seemed to cause your whole body to shake before you carefully pulled open the door and bolted towards the stairs before you could overthink it. 
You could spot your room as you reached the bottoms of the stairs, your body momentarily relaxing as you continued to rush as quickly and quietly as possible. You were so close— so close to being able to get away from whatever nightmare this was. 
And yet, just as you reached the bottom of the steps, an uncaring hand tugged you back by your hair. The cry you let out was pitiful, your head spinning as you tumbled to the ground. You already knew what had happened but that didn’t lessen the blow of having to see Ellie right above you, using her knee to keep the rest of your body held down as she kept a tight hold on your wrists. 
“You really are a fucking idiot, you know that?” she seethes, her chest heaving just the same as yours is. Crying would be futile at a time like this so you look up at her with nothing but betrayal and resentment. “Fuck you” you seethe, although your words only make her smile brightly. “Aw no, baby. We already played that game, remember?” she asks teasingly. You hated her more each time she opened her mouth and you wanted nothing more than to smack that stupid fucking smile off her face. 
“W— why are you doing this?” you ask abruptly, your eyes scanning her features for even the slightest bit of regret and yet you came up empty. The question makes her scoff, as she couldn’t believe that was what you chose to ask at a time like this. “You’re so unoriginal” she huffs, although her grip on your wrist falters as she begins to speak. “You should know already” she continues on, her eyes remaining focused on your fearful expression. 
“No one took his death seriously— no one. So why does everyone suddenly care when a bunch of asshole kids from a college get killed off, huh?” she begins, and you already know she is referencing Joel’s abrupt death. “I figured I’d give those cops something to do since all they’ve done is sit on their asses… those fucking bastards” she says, so lost in her confession that she doesn’t even feel the way you easily slip your wrist from her grasp and before she takes notice, you use all the strength you could muster to smack her, not giving two shits as to why she felt she had the right to harm others. 
The hit makes her groan, her head turning from the force of it as her whole body weakens for a brief moment, just long enough for you to shove her off of you and make another run for your bedroom. You could hear Ellie screaming meaninglessly as you sprinted for your life towards your bedroom, the sound of her footsteps right behind you making it hard to breathe. 
There was no time to slam the door before she got a hold on you again and she was going to make sure you knew she wasn’t fucking around this time. You were about to scream just to call attention to the house in case any neighbors happened to hear but you were quickly cut off when you felt a cool metal press against the side of your head. 
She had a fucking gun— that was what you had seen tucked in her jeans earlier. 
You felt as if your lungs were giving out, soft pleas beginning to fall from your lips as your body trembled in her hold. “Not so tough now, huh?” she questions, guiding you towards your plush bed and shoving you down on it, watching as you look up at her with teary eyes as she keeps the gun pointed at your head. 
The sight of you being reduced to such a pathetic sight made something blossom in Ellie’s chest, a sick sense of pride. She tucked the weapon into the back of her jeans before slowly crawling into bed with you, her body straddling your own as she looks down at you curiously. You can’t speak even if you try, the words dying in your throat as you watch her pull out her switchblade instead. 
She seems to relax, although you are tensing with each passing second as she brings the sharpened blade closer to your skin. You shake your head repeatedly, trying to reason with her. “Please— please don’t kill me” you begin to beg, the words leaving your lips countless times before they finally invoke a response from her. “Oh, angel. I don’t want to kill you. Just wanted to have some fun with you but then you had to make a big fuss, didn’t you?” she asks, her voice so soothing that you could feel your rational mind slipping away. 
“You really hurt me, baby” she sighs, beginning to use her blade to slice through the fabric of your top effortlessly. You whimper, a bit too loud for her liking. “Shut the fuck up” she snaps, cutting into the band of your bra next, her rough hand messily tugging the ruined material to the side so she could get a perfect view of your tits. You felt all too exposed, your frown deepening as you looked up at her. 
“So, are you gonna apologize for being so disrespectful?” she questions as she pushes up the material of your skirt, her blade catching on your panties. “Sorry” you mutter, squirming since her blade was uncomfortably close to your skin. Ellie’s patience was wearing, a low huff leaving her lips as she cut into the fabric. “Stop fucking moving!” she says exasperatedly, the loud words causing your body to still at once. 
She sighs as she pulls the thin fabric away from your body, her eyes shamelessly focusing on your cunt, her hand carelessly shoving your thighs further apart. “Say it like you mean it” she demands, not at all impressed. Her words make you burn with shame, your mind racing as she brings her hand closer to your cunt that was beginning to become embarrassingly wet. 
Just as your words began, her blade dug into your lower tummy in the slightest, barely enough to draw blood. “I’m sorry, Ellie! I didn’t mean it, I swear” you plead in a rushed voice, trying to focus on not moving at all so her blade wouldn’t push deeper into the soft skin of your stomach. Your chest heaved against your will and you were almost positive that this was the end for you, 
Seeing you all teary eyed and frightened made Ellie dizzy with power and she finally pulled away the blade, tucking it into her pocket before giving you a little kiss on your lips, not at all caring that you didn’t even have time to react to the action. “Was that so hard, sweet girl? Can’t believe you made me hurt you” she says with a mocking pout. 
All you can do is try to control your breathing, no longer attempting to struggle under the weight of her body. You knew your life was in danger but Ellie’s presence made it impossible for you to have any sort of rationality. 
“C’mere” she mutters calmly, finally scooting back so that you could sit up. She could already tell she had gotten you right where she wanted you so she felt no concern about letting you sit up for the time being. She carelessly removed your torn clothes so that you were finally completely bare for her. 
She couldn’t help herself, as her hand naturally lowered to deliver a few rough slaps against your tits. You flinched, the pain spreading quickly and making you huff a bit. It was hard not to be ashamed when you were completely nude and she was still fully clothed. Not to mention the fact that you were willingly allowing a ruthless killer to see you like this. 
No words were spoken as she laid you back down, not paying you any mind as she lowered herself so she could settle between your legs. You knew better than to move at this point, so you settled for raising your head in the slightest bit so you could peek down at her. 
Ellie didn’t bother to meet your gaze, her rough hands moving against your soft skin as she made sure you would be unable to press your thighs together. “Els…” you began, unsure of what you were even going to say. You didn’t even have the option to finish your sentence, as in the blink of an eye you could feel her warm breath against your cunt. 
You flinched involuntarily as she pressed a messy kiss to your sensitive clit, her tongue flattening to lick a stripe against your slit afterwards. She only backed away to speak a few simple words. “Just keep your mouth shut” she muttered before returning to her previous movements. 
The way her tongue sloppily moved against you showed a desperation you had never seen before, although the grip she had on your hips was proof of the anger that still lingered. You clasped your hand over your mouth, your brows knitting as you focused on how she would take little breaks to focus on sucking on your puffy bud. 
Your shaky hips rocked against her mouth, her own moans filling the room as she took in your sweet taste. “You gonna let me open you up?” she asks ever so calmly, allowing her middle finger to press into your slick cunt so she could fuck you with it. 
You were growing dizzy with a combination of guilt and pleasure, tears of frustration forming as she fucked you open. “Does it feel good, baby?” she asks, raising her head so she could look at your pathetic expression. You look at her for a moment, unsure if you were actually allowed to speak. 
The sight of your unsure gaze made Ellie grin in the slightest, not giving any warning as she pushed a second finger into you. “S’ fine, I wanna hear you” she says, granting you the permission you had been seeking out. Your muscles relaxed as you were finally allowed to let out small moans, your tears now aimlessly streaming down your face. 
“Mhmm,  I can feel it so deep” you whisper, curses slipping out as you press your head back against your bed. Your small movements quickly became erratic, your body writhing as endless pleasure built. “Need to cum, please” you beg, as something tightening in your lower tummy told you that you were getting close. 
“Not yet, we haven’t even gotten to the fun part” she hums, not caring about the shocked expression that took over your features. She halted the thrusting of her fingers to pull them out, your arousal still sticky against her skin. 
You momentarily believed that she had no intentions of letting you get off and you simply couldn’t bear the thought after all you had been through tonight. You needed to feel release, sooner rather than later. 
“I’ll do anything” you say quickly, your words so rushed that they almost don’t make sense to Ellie. Her eye refocus on you as she takes a moment to decipher what you had said, a smile making itself known as she reaches for an item still tucked into the back of her jeans. 
“I know you will” she quips, finally revealing what she had been reaching for. Ellie loved how heavy the gun felt in her hand and it offered her a sense of control she had never felt previously. Your heart nearly leapt out of your throat, your muscles aching from how harshly you were tensing up. 
The way you feverishly shook your head made you momentarily nauseous and you uttered the only words you could think of. “Please— don’t hurt me, I love you” you say breathlessly, feeling hurt at the way Ellie was quick to mutter a mocking version of your words. 
“I’m not gonna hurt you unless you make me” she states nonchalantly, inching the gun closer to your cunt but not before taking the time to spit directly on your pussy to ensure you wouldn’t be in too much pain from the stretch. 
You feel powerless as she finally presses the cool steel against your slit, the sound of her low voice reverberating inside your mind. “Make sure to keep still. You don’t want me accidentally pulling the trigger now, do you?” she asks with a sick smile. 
The two of you already know your answer so you don’t bother with a verbal reply, instead you close your eyes tightly and brace yourself. 
The barrel of the handgun eases into your cunt and you are thankful that she had the decency to make sure you were slick enough to take the weapon. Although that’s not to say that there wasn’t any pain, as low grunts were quick to leave your lips from how thick it was. 
“Keep taking it, just like that” she coos, now beginning to properly fuck you with it. You had fallen weak to your desires, as it dawned on you that you were truly nearing your orgasm due to the fact that you were being fucked with a gun. The thrusts were deep and fast, your moans becoming borderline screams as your pleasure continuously built. 
The barrel had grown warm from being within you and the way you were crying Ellie’s name let her know that you were on the brink of your climax. “Do it. Cum on my gun like the filthy girl you are” she mutters, rubbing your clit in time with the thrusts of the weapon. 
And you didn’t need to be told twice, as with one loud cry, you had reached your orgasm. Ellie felt pride swell within her chest as she saw the white ring of your slick that had formed at the end of the barrel. 
She eased the weapon out of your before using her tongue to shamelessly clean up the mess you had made on her weapon of choice. You were barely coherent, the exhaustion of all the fighting you had done catching up with you as well as the fact that your adrenaline was wearing off. 
You didn’t even notice as she stood above you, phone in hand as she took a flash photo of your worn down state. Once the light made you squint, you could hear her voice right next to your ear but you couldn’t even see her. 
“You tell anyone about what I did, I swear to god this picture will be plastered everywhere so everyone knows how much you love getting fucked by sickos. And if you ever talk back to me again, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even finish your sentence” she whispers. 
By the time you can see clearly again, she is gone, leaving you to clean up the mess she had made. But even with her gone, you swore you could still feel her eyes on you and you knew once and for all, there was no way she would ever let you get away from her. 
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azsazz · 8 hours
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Hide (Part 3)
Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader
Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 2,447
Notes: A lil longer this time...enjoy 💙
[Part One] [Part 2]
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You don’t get the chance to call after Rhysand before he vanishes in a puff of darkness.
Your chest aches and tears prick your eyes. You’ve never fought with your brother like this before, not even when you argued over him coddling you long after you healed from the incident and wanted to have time alone without a guard Illyrian watching your every move.
This somehow hurts more than any of the injuries you sustained that dreadful night.
Eris stands from his chair and pulls you into his body, desperate for your touch as much as you are for his. He doesn’t care that Cassian and Azriel are watching his every move, how Azriel gets a hand on the hilt of his dagger as soon as he stands. He wouldn’t hurt you, couldn’t hurt you, but that burning in his chest that you let drift down the bond, he knows how much he has.
You swallow roughly, leaning into his chest. Eris strokes your hair softly, pressing his nose to your hair to take a deep inhale of your scent, one he hasn’t smelled for months this time, but it nearly brings him to his knees all the same. 
Eris is incredibly happy to have you in his court but his happiness is stifled by both the fact that you and Rhysand are no longer on good terms, and that he’s bringing you to meet his family for the first time, and that alone is like walking into a den of wolves.
With you in his hold once again, none of that matters. Nothing matters besides you and your happiness, and he will try his damnedest to make that beautiful smile appear again. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and think of terrible, awful things so his cock doesn’t press into your stomach the way that it wants to.
Just being in his arms again helps calm you. Eris’ body is so warm and suddenly you feel so drained from the events that have happened here. All you want to do is burrow yourself against him and fade away for a few hours, but none of that is going to happen any time soon because your brother's words ring in your head.
Get out of my court. 
Had he been serious when he said such a dreadful thing? His words are law in the Night Court but surely he couldn’t have meant that you needed to leave. Not while you’re fighting. Not like this.
You rest your chin on Eris’ chest when he draws up only slightly at the snort of disgust Cassian makes behind him. He doesn’t care that his back is turned to the two most powerful warriors in the Night Court, not when he has you in his arms.
Staring up at your mate, you blink slowly, looking deep into those russet eyes. They’re soft with worry, his fingers a gentle massage as he runs them down your back, needing to touch every inch of you possible. Eris restrains from kissing you, from claiming you in front of them, because you’re hurting more than you’re letting him feel, but he knows you better than that, even without the bonds help. The redness brimming your eyes, the tightness of your mouth, the way your fingers dig into his skin so harshly, like clinging to him is the only way you won’t break. 
The kiss Eris places on your forehead is so gentle that a tear breaks free, rolling down your cheek. He wipes at it before he reaches down and twines your fingers together, letting you lean into his side as the both of you face your guards.
Your treachery is written clear as day across Cassian’s face. His thick eyebrows drawn taut, those hazel eyes flickering between you and your mate with contempt. The corners of his mouth are downturned in a disapproving frown, and you’ve never quite seen him like this before. 
His hatred is palpable. You want so desperately to reach out to him, to explain all of this mess, but he will refuse to listen, no matter how much he loves you.
Azriel’s face is carefully blank. You’ve never mastered being able to read through it and it makes your heart clench in your chest.
“How could you?” Cassian blurts, as if any of this was your choice. You don’t choose when the mating bond makes itself known, and you certainly don’t choose who your mate is. 
You’d been just as surprised as they were when the bond snapped into place in the middle of a meeting with the High Lord’s, sat right by your brother’s side. One look from the heir apparent of autumn has sent your bond striking, writhing in your chest at the sight of him. As soon as those russet eyes found yours, your breath caught in your chest, the bond snapping like a lance.
You’d gone pale and your brother had thought nothing of it, slipping into your mind to ask if you were okay while he kept his attention on the conversation at hand. 
Ripping your gaze from Eris’, you had told him you suddenly felt ill, the first lie you’ve ever told your brother. It felt like shit in your mouth but the twisting of your lips had been misread as the sudden sickness you felt in your stomach. 
Rhysand asked Azriel to escort you to your rooms in the Summer Courts castle, and even the shadow singer hadn’t deigned to read into the sudden rush of emotions running through your veins, the shared emotions of your mate.
You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning heavily on Azriel when you felt the desperate tugging in your chest as if Eris was begging you to stay, not to walk away from him despite the centuries long clashing of your courts. 
“Do not speak to my mate like that,” Eris hisses, slithering from his seat to stand firmly in front of you, keeping you safe from the two males you’d grown up with, that had taken care of you, suddenly looking at you like you’re the enemy. “She has done nothing wrong.”
“She has done everything wrong!” Cassian’s shout bites. You flinch a little, tucking in closer to Eris’ side. His russet gaze sharpens, lighting with anger. You tighten your arms around him so that he doesn’t do anything irrational like light Cassian up right where he’s standing. Cassian’s siphons glow menacingly as he swings his gaze to you, the hurt he’s experiencing clear on display. “You should have come to us! We would’ve—” He seems at a loss, the words choking up in his throat. “We would’ve been able to help!”
“Help what, Cassian?” You answer, voice cracking as your emotions heighten again. “There was nothing any of you could do, nothing to fix!” You’re exasperated, shoving a few strands of hair back from your face. “I am in love with Eris Vanserra and there is nothing that anyone can do about it!”
The silence that follows your words is scorching. 
Cassian opens his mouth and shuts it immediately. He’s looking down at you like he doesn’t even know you, like he hasn’t known you since you were no more than thirteen and had been harboring the biggest crush on him. You’d seen him as someone who you could always turn to, someone who could ease the pain of many. The male who could so easily lead an army with a little wit and a lot of confidence, sweet and cheeky and rational.
Cassian is one of the strongest males that you know, but right now, in Rhysand’s absence but in front of the Mother and yourself, your mate and Azriel, he’s acting like nothing more than a fussing babe.
When Cassian seems to find his words, they are not nice. “If you truly believe that there was nothing we could have done, I don’t know you.” He shakes his head, sheathing the knife at his thigh.
You’re done listening to his vitriol. Your voice is heated, as if the fires that burn beneath your lover's skin fuels your words. “If you truly believe that I don’t love my mate, I don’t know you either.” 
Cassian pins you with one more glare, chuckling softly as he turns to leave the room. “You have one hour to leave this court. Night’s armies no longer march with Autumn’s.” 
Your breath leaves you in a harsh gasp but he’s already out the door. This…this is the worst case scenario. You’d been worried about the impending war against the King of Hybern and the Queen of the Black Lands. It has taken an immense number of correspondence with the other courts to plan your defense, and now it’s all for naught. 
“I’m sorry,” your voice cracks as the weight of the night rests heavily on your shoulders. You peer up at your mate, the urge to burst into tears an appealing one, especially when you hear your mate’s stern words.
“There is nothing for you to be sorry for, fawn. Nothing,” he glances over to the last standing Illyrian in your way of leaving. Eris swoops down, unable to keep himself from you, pressing a soft but reassuring kiss to your lips. “We will speak about this later. You should gather your things.”
You look at Azriel for permission to do just that. His hazel eyes flicker between you and Eris before he nods slightly, leading you from the room.
His shadows trail you from behind, crawling across the walls like spiders. Him walking in front of you is a sign of trust that makes your shoulders droop a little. At least one of the three brutish Illyrians you consider your brothers sees reason. 
“I surely hope that you know what you’re doing,” Azriel murmurs, turning down the corridor leading to one of the staircases leading upstairs. It’s not the grand one in the center of the house for everyone to see, and you’re thankful that his spymaster tendencies will keep you from being the entertainment of the night. 
You can’t help but to think about your brother.
You clear your throat a little before answering Azriel. “If you cannot accept my mate, then you cannot accept me, either. Rhysand has made that abundantly clear.” You squeeze Eris’ hand, following Azriel down the halls that you know so well. There is no need for an escort, and each step closer to your room tightens your throat.
You adore how Eris is following your lead, how he’s letting you speak for yourself and not for you, no matter how much you know he wants to burn this manor to the ground. 
“He is outside of his mind right now,” Azriel answers, his steps silent even though his boots are thick-soled. He moves like a whisper of night, always an eerie aura to the cobalt siphon clad male. He glances over his shoulder with a look that tells you you should know this, that you should know your brother better than anyone. “He will come around.”
You hope.
You don’t speak again on the way to your room. No one does. Eris is following along, eyeing everything because he has never been this deep into the House of Wind. It’s intriguing to him, or you think your mate might be cataloging everything he’s seeing for ammunition later. You’re much too tired to question it right now. 
Following his lead, you drink in everything that you can; the scones and art littering the walls, the intricately patterned runner on the end of your bed, a gift from your mother.
It doesn’t take long for you to grab your things. Dresses and clothes you can purchase when you arrive in Autumn. You will need to fit in. You carefully fold the runner, aware of both males eyes on you as you do so; one pair loving, the other calculating. 
You pack a few more personal items, the ones that mean something to you: a necklace gifted to you from Rhysand on the coldest solstice you’ve ever experienced, a sweater, one of the only gifts you’ve actually received from your father. Your favorite knife is already strapped to your thigh beneath your dress—a gift from Azriel, and with a slight frown, you shove the book Cassian had picked out for you into your bag, clipping it shut.
“Are you sure that’s all you want to bring, my mate?” Eris asks tenderly. You nod firmly. Looking around your room one last time, you wonder if you will ever see it again. Azriel seems so sure that Rhysand will come around, but you’re not so sure. You may be fighting on the same sides of the war, but you are no longer allies.
“Yes. I’m ready.” You say it with a fake finality that you don’t mean. You peek at Azriel one last time and catch the remorse in that dark gaze of his. 
He doesn’t like this anymore than you do. 
Eris takes your bag and then your hand, winnowing you to your new home.
When you appear in the Autumn Court, his rooms greet you. The lights are buttery and soft, an immediate comfort that reminds you so much of the caring male mated to you. The walls are painted a deep olive with the most luxurious curtains draped all the way to the floors, which are a warm wood. 
A fire roars loudly in the hearth, its flame burning brighter with your sudden appearance, like the flames are trying to crawl from the firebox to hold you in their warm embrace.
Eris frames your face with his hands, sweeping his thumbs beneath your cheeks, drinking you in intently. He’s nervous, you realize, because you’ve never been to autumn, never seen his rooms nor met his family. You bond thrums in your chest as you send all of the love and thanks you’re feeling through to him. His shoulders drop immediately, the tension leaking from them because no matter who gets in your way, from your family or his, you will always have each other. 
The kiss is searing. You step further into your mate, reveling in the feeling of being alone with him again. Nothing else matters outside of this. Outside of his smokey scent, outside of the hands on your body, creeping up your back to split the collar of your dress, outside of his lips on yours—
Eris breaks the kiss almost abruptly, his lips the same red dusting as his cheeks. You can’t help but to lick your lips, your core melting when his eyes track the motion. 
“Welcome to the Autumn Court, fawn. Let me show you my bed.”
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indydonuts · 11 hours
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Bickering in Love ft. Law & Kid
And we’re back with more messing with your One Piece S/O because messing with each other is its own love language. ❤️
Law
You’ve “added” to his tattoos when you find him passed out at his desk. No one else says a word and bets are placed on how long until he notices. Shachi almost always wins.
When you first got together with Law, you jokingly apologized to Bepo for stealing him. Now, when you’re being annoying, Law laments that Bepo never treated him this way. (And then he immediately has to apologize to Bepo if he’s in earshot; poor baby hates it when you two fight, even if it’s a joke.)
He shambles your things all the time, especially when you aren’t looking. It’s his way of asking for attention. If you come to see him, he’ll tell you where he put them. Eventually.
You have to trick or bribe him into washing his hat. He’s a huge baby about it and hates how his hair sticks up without it.
The man is awful at innuendo. You once asked him if he’d “give you an anatomy lesson” one night and he had literally pulled all of his anatomy books from the shelf when you arrived at his room. You will never let him live it down.
Your stupid couple's fight is: why doesn’t he have to wear a boiler suit? “Because I’m captain” is not a satisfactory answer.
Once, you got a little too drunk and asked Law why the Polar Tang didn’t have sails. You were very upset when he told you submarines didn’t need sails. Now, every time the sub gets ready to dive, he asks if you’ve secured the sails.
Kid:
No one on the Victoria Punk had the guts to mess with him before you came along. (He was actually feeling a little left out, tbh.) He was thrilled when you stepped up, but you’ve also created a monster.
You reversed the polarity of his favorite wrench, and he spent a good ten minutes chasing it around the workshop before he finally stopped trying to use his power to grab it. 
You kept mixing up the different types of screwdrivers and wrenches in Kid’s workshop, so he labeled them all for you. And then he labeled all the other tools. Then everything in your room. Then, everything on the ship. You see where this is going, right?
You’re one of those couples that’s almost too mean in your pranks, but for whatever reason, y’all think near-death encounters are hilarious.
How he keeps his workshop “organized” is an argument with no end in sight. It’s really just a habit at this point.
Kid jokingly called you and Killer “Mom and Dad” once since you two are often the only voices of reason on the ship. The joke is on him because now the two of you constantly threaten to ground him or say, “Don’t make me bring your mother/father into this.” He hates it, and you two love it. 
When he’s really involved in a project, you stick notes and reminders to his arm with cute little animal magnets. He doesn’t always notice they’re there, either.
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simping-overload · 3 days
Note
Hello! I was just wondering if you could write some angst!!
I was wondering if you could write a ghost x male reader where reader gets seriously injured to the point where it scares the shit out of ghost and ghost lectures him but ends up crying as he's lecturing the reader? 👀
a/n: hurt/comfort my love tags: canon typical violence, gore(??ppl get stabbed and someone gets their throat sliced open) no use of y/n, male reader, injured reader, prob occ ghost??? ghost cries, everyone cries. angst, hurt/comfort
ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem please do not follow or interact with my mlm/nbmlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛
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You were a sniper. You weren’t supposed to get too close to the fight. All you had to do was hang back and try to offer support, but by the gods do you never listen.
The situation got tight, Gaz and Soap trapped in a room by enemy fire. Captain Price and Ghost were clearing out another building.
You being the oh so self-sacrificing bastard you are ran to help. You went the back way, so the enemies’ backs would face you, unaware of your approach.
You quickly and efficiently took them out, just as you were trained, but—you missed one. A heavy hitter, a fucking Juggernaut.
He didn’t bother reloading his gun, throwing it to the side before he started swinging. The first few swings caught you off guard, and he got you right in the nose, breaking it. This throws you off balance, which gives him the opportunity to throw you against the concrete wall.
You rolled to the side before he could kick your ribs in, quickly standing up on your feet, slightly dazed. You pull out your knife, the one you were gifted to Simon, as using a gun in close combat would be useless.
You circled each other, waiting for the other to strike first. Vaguely out of the corner of your eye, you can see Soap carry Gaz out of the building. You feel a slight relief that now they’re safe.
Your way of winning this fight was to take it nice and slow, bait him into moving so he wears out easier due to all that heavy gear.
You move forward like you’re going to swing, which causes him to charge forward. You sidestep. His armor barley grazes yours.
“Oh? Is That all you got?” You mock, tapping your foot like an impatient child. You’ve played this game before.
He huffed like a big bad wolf, “I’ll fucking kill you,” He growls out.
Charing at you again, he actually gets you. He grabs onto the side of your armor and pulls you on him, securing his arms around your body before throwing you onto the ground with him.
You can feel something crack as your head fits the floor, that doesn’t stop you from squirming and wriggling in his grasp. You use your knife, plunging it into the nearest flesh you can find.
It didn’t go far, but it did make him shout in pain. For just a moment, his grip loosens, you throw yourself out of his hold, trying to dash away to create distance.
He recovered quickly, grabbing onto your ankle. He forced you to trip. Landing face first, you couldn’t stop him from dragging you back to him. He gets on top of you, pinning your arms down with his knees as he starts punching you again.
You black out, head and mouth bleeding. The man cackles, throwing you up against the wall with a cackle. He holds you up, forearm pressed against your through as your feet dangle helplessly in the air.
Your eyes shoot open at your sudden lack of air, you kick at him weakly. Shaking hands, reach for your knife, ripping it out of his thigh. You can’t use it before he rips the blade out of your head and stabs your stomach multiple times.
High off of adrenaline, you grab a smaller knife from your shoulder strap, one that was covered in a fast acting poison to render your opponents immobile. You did the knife under his helmet; the knife meeting his now exposed throat and you slice.
The man immediately drops you, leaving the knife in your stomach as he stumbles back, holding his neck. He slides down against the wall as his body gives up on him.
You raise a shaky hand to your walkie, “Captain-L.T. I need a medic asap. I can’t stay awake for much longer.” You can feel your eyelids get heavy.
“Stay awake, soldier. I’m on my way.” Simon’s gruff voice was the last thing you heard before your eyes seemed to shut for what may be the last time.
You float in and out of consciousness, eyes cracking over just barley as you feel familiar arms pick you up and run to the evac. On the helicopter, his gloved hands holding your face with such gentleness.
The last thing you remembered was being jabbed with one too many needles before passing out completely.
You felt like shit. Your head was pounding, and the rest of your body felt like it was on fire. You crack your eyes open, wincing at the blinding lights of the medical ward.
Your eyes scan the room. There isn’t anyone here. Aside from whoever is sleeping next to you. You turn your head slightly, recognizing the familiar build of the love of your life, Simon.
“Simon.” You try, voice dry and horse.
His head automatically shoots up at the call of his name. His eyes lock with yours. You can see the internal strife within them debating over what he wants to say.
“You’re an idiot.” The insult doesn’t make you wince, as it’s true.
“I know—.”
“No, I don’t think you do. You rush in blind, without a care in the world. You could’ve been killed, and you nearly were.” Simon takes your hand in his.
“I was only trying to help Si... I couldn’t do shit from the bird’s nest.” You interlock your fingers and squeeze his hand.
“What help are you if you ended up dead?” His shoulders drop. “I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if you did.”
You can feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “Simon... let me see you.” You nudged the edge of the mask with your free hand.
Simon slips off the mask, his eyes are bloodshot-a result of hours of crying. You cup his face with a shaky hand. “But I am here now, that is what matters, yeah?”
He leans into your palm, tears streaming down his cheeks. You sigh, pulling him towards you. Pressing your forehead against yours, he sighs against you.
“I’ll make sure to be safer next time, okay?”
“Okay.”
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goingmerryfics · 3 days
Text
Arguments w/ Shanks, Buggy, & Mihawk
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Content: Gender Neutral reader, no NSFW. Maybe some slightly angsty stuff? Not really though.
Shanks
Arguing with him is either exhausting or it’s pointless, there’s never an in-between
Shanks doesn’t really take most arguments seriously because they’re either started by something extremely unimportant or he’s already made his decision and he’s not going to back down on his opinion
Pointless, because he’s not going to change his mind and he’s laughing at you while you’re trying to talk to him
“You’re so cute when you’re angry.”
Yup. Pointless. It’ll just make you more angry and him more entertained
The exhausting arguments are when he’s actually serious- and while he’s not mad at you, he’s mad that you can’t see his reasonings for doing what he’s doing
Especially when it comes to keeping you safe
Shanks won’t back down and it’s impossible to change his mind while he’s this pissed off, so it’s always best to just separate and come back later to talk it out when you’re both calm
While you do what you need to do in order to relax, Shanks festers in his anger and reflects on the things that were said between the two of you. His crewmates try to cheer him up- they offer him booze, they crack jokes, but he’s not in the mood for either and everyone is concerned
Truthfully, he’s worried. While he’s still not willing to change his mind, he doesn’t want to lose the relationship you two have worked so hard to build and maintain
He gets up out of his seat 3 times to pace around, mind racing back and forth on if he should go talk to you, and then convincing himself that it’s best to wait for you to emerge first so he knows you’re ready to talk
But he grows tired of waiting, and does actually end up coming to your shared room to resolve the issue
You’re still steaming just a bit. Your arms are crossed over your chest, and you don’t look up when he enters. You know it’s him, because a few others on his crew have already come to check on you, and you’d asked them politely to leave you be. But you don’t protest when he comes to sit beside you
He doesn’t touch you
It’s painfully silent for a while
Then he finally speaks up and breaks the tension
“I’m sorry. That got a little more heated than I wanted it to.”
You peek up at him just a bit. He notices how red your face is, and a strike of fear shoots through him at the thought of possibly having made you cry and then left you on your own for hours
He stretches out his hand, offering it to you to hold, and you shift in your position to take it
He goes into a rant on how much you mean to him and how he’s only doing what he has to do to keep you and the rest of the crew safe
“Because I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
You do
You also know that no matter how many times you two get upset with each other, you’ll always find your way back into his arms
Buggy
Arguing with him would come often, but the content of the arguments is what matters here
Only for the reason that Buggy is adamant about being correct in every situation, even when he is not and knows it
Everyone knows it’s best to just simply let him believe his delusions and let the natural consequences come through
But this guy seriously has weirdly good luck, and somehow all his delusions seem to come true for him in one way or another
Half of the time it’s just funny watching him be completely wrong about a subject, other times it’s a little infuriating
Arguments don’t last long between the two of you, though
Buggy craves attention, and attention from his favorite person is a must. It’s basically a necessity of life
Food, water, shelter, you. Not in that order, though
He realizes too late through his incessant rambling and gloating that he’s said something that hurt your feelings and immediately starts to backpedal
“Wait, wait, wait! That’s not what I meant! What I meant to say was-”
He’s red in the face, almost so much so as his nose
He hates to admit it, but you look really good glaring down at him like that as he tries to save his own skin
He clams up, sweating. Unsure of himself. Not sure what he was even saying a second ago
As much as you need time alone to chill out, he can’t seem to leave you be. It’s scary for him, seeing your usually smiling face so serious
He takes a seat outside of your room, and then breaks into pieces no, literally while he waits for you to emerge again
It takes you a few hours, but he’s there the whole time. His feet are pacing around, his head is whining, cheek on the floor. His hands are tapping and picking at the dirt in the wood, but every part of him lights up when he sees you again
“Aha! I see you finally caved. Couldn’t stay away from me, could you?”
You pause, and then move to go back inside before he yelps and his hands grab at your ankles. His parts come back together again, using the rest of his body to hold you in place
“Wait! I’m sorry! Please don’t go back!”
He shouts it all in a rush. He’s crying, and there’s snot running down his nose
He looks like a damn mess
It kind of makes you laugh at how desperate he is for you
he pouts up at you and you cave
He basically crawls up your body to hug you. You hug him back, petting his hair and waiting for him to relax, sitting right there in the doorway of your room. People pause as they pass, but a sharp look from you stops them from staying for very long
Mihawk
If Mihawk is actually worked up enough to argue with you, there’s a good reason for it
Usually he makes his point and that’s that. No other words exchanged, nothing more than a slight glance towards you
Mihawk is an introvert, and he gets exhausted from others very easily. He’s not trying to be rude or dismissive towards you when he does this, but that is how it comes off sometimes
He’ll turn his attention back to his book because after he’s said what he wanted to, he figures everything is fine. He understands his logic, why wouldn’t you?
But you, like a lot of people that aren’t Mihawk, are more emotional than he is
Your silence isn’t acceptance, it’s hurt
Only when you get up to leave the room does the thought cross his mind that maybe what he’d said didn’t come off correctly, and you might have just been insulted. But he figures you would come tell him if that were the case, so all is well and he returns to his book
This could go forever, really. Until he notices that you’re giving him the cold shoulder, and then he would stop whatever he was doing- even if he were in another room at the time of realization -and find you to clear things up right away
“Darling, we need to talk right away.”
Straight to the point. He doesn’t really ask you if you want to talk, because he knows if he doesn’t at least make an attempt at this it will haunt him like Perona’s ghosts all night
The thing about Mihawk that not many people know is that he’s got this cool, collected, silent aura about him because he simply does not have the energy to play nice with everyone
So when he’s just arrived home from a Warlord meeting, or somewhere that he was obligated to be present for, all he wants is time to himself to recharge
Having a relationship and balancing this need was something he was still learning
But he loves you so much and the thought of upsetting you over a misunderstanding gnawed at him and gave him massive amounts of anxiety and uncomfortability
He’s not this untouchable guy that everyone thinks he is. You’ve seen this; he laughs and cries like everyone else does
And you understand him. He couldn’t ask for someone better than you are
If you’re willing to, he’ll take your hands and kiss your knuckles.
“I apologize for my behavior. I should have given my words a second thought before I spoke them out loud. What can I do to make this up to you?”
It’s an easy thing to answer- it’s all you wanted since he’d returned, why you kept invading his space before he was ready to emerge and what lead up to the situation in the first place
You tell him you want him. His attention, to be wrapped in his arms. You just want to spend time with him, even if that’s in silence
He can work with that
He presses a kiss to your forehead and makes you promise that you’ll tell him if he ever says or does anything to upset you again. He wants to communicate, not lose out on precious time with you over something small
He goes above and beyond, though. He makes up a very romantic candlelit dinner that night for the both of you to share and even if it’s a very quiet dinner, (minus the music playing softly in the background) it’s perfect
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madwcman · 2 days
Note
Hi sweetie (can I call you that? Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable) can I request something that goes like poly marauders x slytherin reader where they figure out they like reader and reader also likes them back but she feels like they don’t like her that way. Angst with fluff something like. Is okay if you can’t take care of yourself <33
a/n: i want to start off and say thank you for requesting and im so sorry i’m posting this late! but i hope you enjoy, this is my first time writing ploy! marauders so please be kind. also i’m not uncomfortable by you calling me sweetie!! :)
pairing: poly! marauders x slytherin! reader
having a crush on three out of the four marauders was just absolutely dense on your half. not only were you a close friend of theirs but james, sirius and remus were in a relationship together, joining in an already formed relationship seemed foolish to you. especially since they were so happy together. you gathered that james, remus and sirius just couldn’t see you in a romantic light.
so you decided to avoid them the best you could. and it wasn’t really that hard. considering you were a slytherin, you just hid in your dorm most of the time. other times where you would see the boys you would just ignore them. if they waved, smiled or even called out your name you would ignore them. and run in the other direction away from them.
“dove, you’re avoiding us.” you look up from the book you were reading and see remus, james and sirius standing in front of you in the library. you’re surprised they’re all in the library, especially james and sirius considering they hate to be quiet and being quiet is the mandatory rule in the library.
“i don’t know what you mean.” you mutter quietly, looking back to your book. avoiding their narrow eyes. “yes you do.” sirius, speaks sourly as you hear the chairs scraping against the floors. looking back up, you see sirius and remus have taken a seat across from you while james sits beside you with a strained smile. “no sirius, i don’t.” you snap back, closing your book. you start to gather your things ready to take your leave to avoid the boys once again.
“will you please just talk to us?” you turn to james, as you stand from your chair. his hair is a little messy from him running his fingers through it, his face looks more red than usual. he looks at you with an angry face. he’s angry with you. “we just want to know what we did.” he waves his hand around between him, sirius and remus. you look at each of the boys with anticipation. you finally let out a sigh and sit back down.
“are you going to talk to us now?” remus asks, he sounds and looks hopeful. you shake your head miserably. this will surely end your friendship with the boys. “well are you going to explain?” sirius ask,
“i’ve been avoiding you three because i want to be with you guys romantically.” you admit, with a gloomy tone. “oh.” they all speak at the same time. you start to tear up and wait for them to reject you. and then later on break up the friendship you guys had. “dove, what’s wrong?” you hear remus get up from his seat across from you and bend down beside you. “dove?”
“are you guys going to stop being friends with me?” you mumble out. closing you eyes. “no, why would we honey?” james ask, rubbing your back softly. “because you guys don’t feel the same.”
“we never said that.” you hear sirius speak, he standing beside remus, he’s not good with comforting but you hear the worry in his tone. you can see he’s trying his best. “what?” you look up from your lap. to look at sirius in disbelief. “we’ve never said that, love.” sirius tells you sweetly, as he moves to bend down with remus.
“we’ve all have actually liked you for a while now.” james admits. “we’ve been meaning to tell you, but you’ve been avoiding us.” remus explains. laughing a little at the situation you guys were in. “oh,” you utter dumbly to yourself. sirius laughs, you feel a little embarrassed but can’t help but smile at yourself.
i’m sorry.” you laugh out, still nervous and embarrassed for avoiding them. you feel slightly silly. “there's no need to apologize,” james rushes out, feeling bad at the thought that you needed to apologize to them. “but you could make it up by going on a date with us.” sirius smiles as he moves in to kiss your cheek.
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won4ver · 3 days
Note
short almost drabble like fic where jake dated you because of a bet (you find out). bet fics are my guilty pleasure.
but i’m thinking it’s more of just your reaction? like it shows the emotions you go through after finding out
if you decide to write it, thank you🤭
✈︎ the perfect picture
pairing : bf!jake x fem!reader
warnings + genre : angst. crying.
wc : 1.1k
a/n : I LOVE BET FICS SM BCUZ THEY HURT SO GOOD OMFG + plsss lmk how i did!
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Jake’s love painted the perfect picture, the canvas splaying out in a precise manner. The midnight giggles and morning delicacies were nothing more than a distraction, a part Jake played a little too well.
You were blindsided by everything else around you, unable to escape your 2d world. The walls of your heart were crafted by the lies that Jake had sewn into your skin since early on, the needle beginning its stitch the second his eyes met yours.
The gallons of paint were now splattered across the sky, Jake's canvas cracking as the black seeped in through the sections where he forgot to blend.
The audio recording sounded out across your stale room, all air stuck in your lungs as you held your breath, heartbeat behind your eyes as the tears welled.
“LN YN? It’s like you're asking for me to lose before I even begin.” The voice so clearly belonged to your boyfriend, his recognizable shocked tone sounding extra sharp.
“So you’re giving up? It’s not my fault they’ve never noticed you before.” Park Sunghoon, the man who always supported that boyish smile, and your boyfriend's best friend.
“I think they’re a good choice, allows more room for fun” Park Jongseong, the captain of the rugby team, again, your boyfriend's best friend.
“What do I get if I win?”
“Easy. You get this” Even if you couldn’t physically see this scene, you knew very well what Park Sunghoon was shaking in his hands. The bills slapping together as he shook them.
“Deal, prepare to hand it over.” The sound of their hands meeting was your tipping point, vision blurring as the tears fell.
The constricted air in your lungs shot out with your first exhale, chest burning as the weight of your boyfriend's betrayal lay heavy.
The next minutes were a blur of tears and blinding lights, your packed bags landing beside your feet as you hurriedly pulled on your shoes. Your phone buzzing to life in your pocket, messages coming in back to back.
You tried ignoring it, the thought of seeing your boyfriend's contact on your screen creating an overwhelming nauseous feeling.
It wasn’t until you heard a specific ringtone that you decided to fish your phone from your pocket, the loud voice of Sunghoon ringing too loudly across Jake’s apartment.
After hanging out with Jake’s friends a few times you managed to get extremely close to them, Sunghoon in specific. It was easy to get along with him, easy to drown within his sweet aura.
After class one day you accidentally stumbled into him, his attempts to hide his swollen eye coming up unsuccessful. You remembered that day, the day you found out about his fights.
It was as if that evening opened a door to your relationship, Sunghoon attaching himself to your hip.
One day all the boys decided to prank you, changing your ringtones to ones personalized by them. Sunghoon’s voice through his own ringtone has never felt so daunting, you’ve never hated him more.
Your eyes lazily read across his newest message, ignoring the other twenty-seven he’d sent within the last two minutes.
hoon
I’m so sorry, I promise we called off the bet after meeting you please don’t do anything you’ll regret. Jake’s on his way back, please hear him out
Without another thought you pressed his notification, the delivered alert changing to seen straight away. It seemed that Sunghoon was already typing again, bubbles popping up right away.
You ignored him once again, leaving his chat to open Jake’s. There was only one message from him, one sent by him hours ago, right after he left to Jay’s house.
“Never talk to me again” you whispered as your fingers pressed each letter, shakily pressing each letter before pressing send. As soon as the message went through you tossed your phone onto the table beside Jake’s door.
Of course, in hindsight, it was foolish to get rid of your phone, but there’s no way you could continue using it knowing all the memories stored in it.
What you didn’t know, was that when you threw it you somehow opened your emails, the email that contained the audio recording.
And so you left, leaving nothing but your phone. You ignored the looks in the lobby, your favourite neighbours giving you worried looks as they saw your state.
You got into the car, carelessly throwing your bags into the backseat. You reversed out of the spot, leaving Jake without another thought.
Jake could feel the dread in his chest as he entered the lobby, the same neighbours that saw you leave in a haste not yet seeing him and they whispered amongst themselves.
“Is yn alright? She just left in a hurry, she was crying pretty bad” Jake didn’t register their words until he reached his apartment, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.
He had figured he’d get up faster if he ran up the stairs, the elevator always took ages to get down to the lobby.
He slammed open his door, tears falling once again as he noticed that all your belongings were gone. The only sound in his apartment was his own breathing, well that’s what he thought until he saw your discarded phone.
He walked towards it, jelly knees barely holding him up as he bent down to grab your phone. He felt acid rise up his throat, eyes widening as he heard the audio coming from your phone.
He knew you had found out the moment Sunghoon looked up at Jake with glassy eyes, shaking his head as he tried to get the words out. He didn’t waste a second before running out, ignoring his friends calling for him as the apartment door slammed behind him.
He was too late, he missed you by mere seconds. He didn’t have the chance to talk to you, to explain himself. This wasn’t how he wanted you to find out, he was planning countless ways that he would tell you.
That bet was Jake Sim’s biggest regret, but it wasn’t a mistake. Even if he was given the chance to go back and stop himself from accepting the bet, he would never do it. The time he spent with you was his favourite, you became his favourite person.
He didn’t know where he would go from here, but all he knew was that he needed to get to your apartment as soon as possible. And so he ran back down all flights of stairs, racing to his car as he sped towards you.
He didn’t know if you’d ever forgive him, but he needed to try. He loved you more than anything, even if it wasn’t genuine at first.
Jake Sim loved you, but after today you didn’t know if you believed that. If he loved you he wouldn’t have done this to you.
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zwhoreo · 2 days
Note
Hi! Can I request a fic where the fem!reader helps Luffy to deal with the trauma of losing his brother?
omg first fic after i randomly left for 2 months!! but im back to writing angst again im in an angst phase
also i ended up not specifying anything gendered for reader, hope that’s chill that it’s x gn! i mostly reserve gendered language for smut
wake up @nina-ya i finished the fic i said i’d finish 2 months ago
nightmares - luffy x gn!reader
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angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending
❕SPOILERS FOR MARINEFORD❕
summary: the trauma of marineford gives luffy nightmares, and you need to comfort him while he’s vulnerable and scared
contains: luffy in a distressing emotional situation, luffy is traumatized, references to marineford/ace’s death/timeskip
words: 2k
_______________________________
Luffy never used to remember his dreams. They were hazy and soft, they made him feel warm and fuzzy when he woke up, he would stretch and yawn and they’d go away so fast and so gently like butterflies flying away. And then he’d see you and hold you and kiss you until you were awake too, as excited to see you and his heart so warm and full of love.
And you were there to enjoy his dreams, he was a noisy sleeper who mumbled happy little thoughts unintelligibly into your neck, he would kick and pinch and squeeze in his sleep which you had to learn to live with because he couldn’t go to sleep without a hug and you’d be the one to give it to him all night. But he’d often end up moving and rolling around, tangling himself uncomfortably, protective instincts kicking in he'd get on top of you and lay there, starfish. When he awoke in the night he’d assume his most comfortable and close position with lazy kisses. He was so, so happy every night.
That was two years ago.
He’s still the same boy he was then, still giving you all those awkward little affections during the night that you missed so much while you were away. But now there’s more. Now, sometimes, he has nightmares. Awful ones that torment him every so often and make him upset and sad when he awakes in the dark, make him begin to cry when he realizes you aren’t in his arms anymore. You always pray for nights when he’s calm like he used to be, you make sure to massage him and kiss him as he falls asleep to coax those good dreams back and help him heal. Of course those years ago he’d get upset and scared and sometimes he wouldn’t feel well when he woke up, but that was so rare, that was when something bad had just happened and he was very stressed but it was so rare because he was so, so happy.
Luffy’s happy now, too. He hasn’t changed much, really, still an excitable, bouncy kid, always smiling, but now you have to worry about the night. You have to worry about dark thoughts and memories bubbling over when he’s most vulnerable until his body shakes and even your affection is barely enough. This is terrible for you, so unbearably terrible. You have to learn how to soothe something broken, something you love with every fraction of your shattered heart.
_________________________________
You’re asleep, a dull, unbreakable sleep, you’d curled up in Luffy’s arms when it was time for bed and you’d cuddled together and giggled and kissed until you both fell asleep in a joyful pile. Now you’re so content, you don’t even notice how Luffy had accidentally rolled away from you in the night, sheets all tangled up with you and keeping a distracting warmth.
Luffy’s dream isn’t bad at first. It’s the kind where you’re not quite there, floating above the world in just a dull picture, no sound or feeling or touch. It’s just the ocean, a bird over the sea. But suddenly the ocean is stone and the sky is fire and he’s disoriented, where is he? What’s happening? He looks at his hands and they’re red and he’s frozen in fear like you sometimes are in nightmares. He knows in his fractured, cloudy little mind that something bad is going to happen and he’s going to see that picture again. A thousand flashbulb memories are going to explode at once, in fire. In the waking world in bed he’s twitching and sweating and his eyes are shifting furiously beneath his lids, and you don’t know, you aren’t there to hold him.
Ace. Ace’s smile and his soft black eyes and they’re playing in the jungle together and running and running and now that’s gone, the fire’s back. It all happens at once, so much blood, holding something fading and dying. Heartsick over a goodbye. It’s one of those nightmares where you cry and scream so much and as loud as you can because everything’s happening to you at once, but you can’t make any sound, you’re just in a tidal wave of amplified agony. And that’s how Luffy lives in this moment, unable to make out much of anything except darkness and pain, shaking and overheating in his sleep.
But the anguish bursts all around him and then suddenly the fire’s gone and everything is quiet again and Luffy’s awake, tangled uncomfortably in the blankets, face covered in tears. He can’t catch his breath and his mind is full and blurry and empty all at once. Suddenly the darkness of the cabin is all encompassing, sickly, he wants it to be day again and for the world to feel safe and happy and oh, where are you?
Fear squeezes his heart as he tries to find you in the darkness, are you gone? He can’t handle being alone right now, he can’t do this, he searches with his hands in the dark and cries and feels the panic burning a hole in his stomach but finally he turns to his left and there you are. Sleeping. Despite all of this you’re still sleeping, curled up and breathing slowly, unaware and at peace. Luffy wants to wake you up so badly because he doesn’t want to be alone but he doesn’t want to worry you.
So he climbs into your arms and breathes you in. He buries his face in your chest and tries to calm his injured heart.
Biting his lip and shaking he tries so hard not to cry. He can’t bother you, he knows you’ll be sad and worried which he really doesn’t want. But his whole body hurts, he wants your arms to be tighter, he squeezes and squeezes begging silently for relief and for everything to go away but it wasn’t just a night terror it was a memory and memories don’t just go away. So he cries.
You’re stirred from sleep because the sound of Luffy crying is the worst thing you could possibly hear, a thousand of your own memories are brought back and some deep instinct is triggered within you, pulling you, you wake up immediately and the first thing you do is get on top of him and lock him in your arms, trying to breathe slowly so he will too.
He twitches beneath you, cloudy realization that he’s no longer alone. His arms are around you, fingers digging in, sharp pain, he’s trying so hard to make his tears stop as you hold him and stroke his face. But he’s a possessive, needy boyfriend who’s comforted by protecting who he loves. He sits up, taking you with him, he wraps his arms around you tighter and tighter and then his legs. He’s breathing heavily on your face, eyes closed, sad still but resilient. You’re pinned to him, unable to move, but you massage the tension out of his back and shoulders as best you can.
“Did you have a nightmare?” you whisper and he nods against you and holds you even tighter if that’s possible, “…do you wanna talk about it?”
So he nods very gently but he doesn’t say anything. His hands are twitching against you, scratching at your back in leftover desperation.
“Was it about him?”
Luffy leans against you, hopeless and drained, you don’t need him to answer so you just press your cheek against his and pet his hair. And his shoulders shake as he cries silently in your arms.
You rest there for a few minutes, unable to do much other than just hold him, and he whispers in your ear, “I miss him so much.” Which wets your eyes because there’s so much pain in those five words. His voice is breathy, far away.
“I know, Lu… I’m sorry.” You’re not good at this, you think. You never really know what to say because this goes deeper than words can touch.
Luffy bites his lips. He doesn’t want to cause you pain and knowing that he is, it’s just piling on top of his despair. There’s so many times he’s oblivious to how you’re feeling but when things are broken, when you’re in distress, reality tugs at the inside of his heart.
“I’ve got you,” you whisper, fingers in his hair, you kiss his neck gently and the warmth is getting through to him, so gradually.
“I want him here. I just…” Luffy’s voice is breaking. And you taste fresh tears as you move your lips higher. “I miss him,” he says again.
“I know how much he meant to you. Hey, Luffy…” The slow rise and fall of your chest is slowly steadier his breath now. He looks up at you, that sadness in his eyes is almost too painful to handle but you look at him anyways, eye contact with something beautiful soothes his soul. “He’d be so proud of you. And how strong you are.”
He’s heard this before. Luffy sniffles, he knows it’s true but only so much of that can help.
“He’d be proud of you, because you never gave up, right? You kept going and you got stronger.” And you’re not talking about his physical strength, really. You tap the side of his head gently. “Up here.”
Luffy nods subtly, his tears are stopping slowly as he clings to the comfort of your words, his greatest comfort in the world is protecting people he loves, being there for someone. He’s still guilt ridden at letting his brother die for him but as long as he keeps living he’s living for Ace, honoring him, being there for him even if he’s gone.
And that’s what you say next, reading his mind. “What matters is that you’re alive. You didn’t let what he did for you go to waste, he’d be so proud of that. This is exactly what he wanted, yeah?” Your hands trace circles on Luffy’s back as you feel him relax very slowly.
“I’m so happy you’re still here,” you whisper right in his ear.
“Mhm…” Luffy’s lips find yours, hovering, just touching you. “I’m not letting you go, ‘kay?” His words are so deep and genuine. There’s heartache there but an impenetrable love, most of all. His arms are flexed around your body, he’s squeezing you and it’s almost uncomfortable but you have to let him right now.
“I’m not going anywhere.” You manage a smile which makes him smile too.
It seemed impossible for Luffy to get even more loving but he definitely was when you saw him again. You’re the one who’s getting it all, all the affection he wanted to give to his brother.
“You wanna hang out for a while?” You offer because you’re scared to let him sleep again. “It’s ok to stay up. If you’re tired tomorrow I’ll take a nap with you.”
He likes that idea. Maybe you’ll get something to eat, even take a walk on the deck if it’s not too cold. He just wants your company. He wants to spend as much time with you as he physically can to make up for everything and to show you how much love he has to give.
“I love you, mh, let’s stay up an’ hang out,” his words are quiet and gravelly from sleep and tears but what matters is he’s smiling now. He’s back to living in the moment tonight, and you’re his moment.
The next morning he’ll be completely back to himself. He’ll kiss you good morning but he’ll act like the night never happened, probably, because it’s nicer to be happy and enjoy the day. He has you, he knows everything’s going to be alright.
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hihomeghere · 1 day
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Dreams | Arthur Morgan/Reader
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Word Count : 1.1k Summary : Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you Warnings/tags : Cursing, fluff, mention of infidelity, just Arthur being a sweet guy <3
He knows he shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t be having these thoughts, because all they are just dreams. They’re never going to become a reality. Not when they’re constantly on the move, running from place to place. He sees the way it affects Jack, poor kid, not knowing what the hell is going on. And his daddy doesn’t exactly help him understand. 
He can’t even say he would be a better father, he wasn’t before. 
Hell you two ain’t even married yet, and he’s not that much of a fool. Not anymore. His regret for not marrying Eliza weighs heavily on him most days, even if he didn’t love her in that way. Now you on the other hand, he loves you more than anything. More than this stupid gang, more than life itself. He would happily lay down his life if he knew you would be happy, safe. 
When these thoughts enter his head, he can’t say. His days sort of blend together, making it hard to pinpoint. Although seeing you interact with Jack doesn’t help. 
You are so sweet, so motherly, hell you even mother the younger folks in the gang. Soft touches, kind words, but internally strong. You have all the qualities he finds attractive in a woman. Somehow you fell for him just as hard as he fell for you. 
But he ain’t a fool, he knows this ain’t the right time or place. So instead he writes down all these dreams in his journal, his safe place. The place where he can say anything without being judged. He dreams of little girls, he didn’t know how to interact with Isaac. Too afraid of being his own father. Girls seem less daunting, and a little you would be perfect. He already has one angel, what’s one more?
He comes up with the name while north of Brandywine Drop. The bright purple flowers caught his eye just off the trail.
Violet.
Violet Beatrice Morgan.
His heart sings, scribbling the name down in the margins of his journal. He finds himself writing VM in his journal, smiling foolishly to himself. It’s beautiful, his precious flower. 
It’s not like you meant to snoop. You were looking for Arthur, since he was nowhere to be found. You entered his tent, which in reality wasn’t much of a tent at all, finding his journal open. You walked over to it, looking over the worn page. There were the normal doodles he drew, along with his flowing hand writing. But one thing stood out to you, a pair of initials circled by hearts. VM.
You furrowed your brows, you couldn’t think of anyone you knew with the initials VM. Those definitely weren’t your initials either. 
With your curiosity peaked you flipped through a couple more pages. VM was written everywhere, along with those damn little hearts. 
You felt that green little monster grow inside you the further you looked into his journal. Biting your cheek so hard you could taste blood. It did nothing to quench the fire inside of you. 
“Darlin?” Arthur called walking into the so-called tent. You dropped the journal back onto the table, turning to face him. “There you are.” He grinned walking towards you.
“Here I am.” You said forcing a smile.
“Hosea said you were looking for me.” He said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Anything you need?”
“Must have forgot.” You said with a noncommittal shrug, “I ought to get back to work.” You nod walking past him. Arthur furrowed his brow at your attitude. Did he say something to offend you?
Then his eyes fall onto his open journal. His stomach drops at the sight. Jesus, you saw. You saw all of it. You were probably thinking the worst, seeing the initial surrounded by hearts. How was he gonna fix this?
You stomped off to the edge of camp, trying to wrack your brain as to who this VM could be. And why was Arthur drawing hearts beside the initials? Maybe you had this all wrong, Arthur would never do anything to hurt you. He was a good man, a man you could trust. Wasn't he?
“Y/n!” He called trailing behind you, a crestfallen expression on his face. You stopped at the tree lining, biting your lip as you turned to face him. “I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.
“I-“ He sighed looking down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a low curse. 
“Who is she?” You asked clenching your jaw. He furrowed his brows looking up at you.
“What?” He asked, his hands settling on his hips.
“VM, the girl you keep drawing hearts around. Who is she?” You were blunt, something he loved so much. Always telling it like it is, never leaving him to guess your feelings. A small smile spread on his face, which only made you more mad. “Seriously, you think this is funny?” You hissed, taking a step towards him. Arthur only had one choice, to tell you the truth. 
“Violet.” He said softly, reaching for you. “Violet Morgan.” You let him wrap his hand around your forearm, pulling you close to his chest.
“Who is Violet Morgan?” You asked, swallowing thickly. He sighed, looking off to the side, wetting his lips.
“She’s uh-“ He shook his head, a nervous smile on his lips. “She’s not exactly real, not yet at least.” He said. 
You shook your head, brows knitted together, “Not real? The hell you mean, not real?”
“I-“ He rubbed the back of his neck looking down, “It’s uh- shit.”
“Spit it out Morgan.” You huff throwing your arms up. 
“I thought of a name,” He explained, “A name for a girl if we- if we have one some day.” He said with a shrug, his cheeks flushed, almost as though he had been in a scuffle. 
Oh.
If we have one some day. 
“Oh Arthur.” You said softly, a smile spreading across your face. Feeling suddenly very foolish for doubting your man. “That's so sweet.” You took a step forward, tilting his face up to look at you. 
“Yeah?” He asked, looping his fingers in his gun belt. 
“Yeah.” You repeated, nodding. “Jesus you had me scared you were gonna tell me you found someone else.” You chuckled, shaking your head.
“Never. There ain’t no one else in this goddamn world that could replace you.” He said his hand reached up to cup your face. “You’re uh- you’re it for me darlin.” His bright blue eyes peered into yours, love and affection pouring out in his expression. “When we have our girl.” You said brushing away a stray strand of honey brown hair, “Violet will be a perfect name.” He grinned, wrapping a hand around your waist.
“Guess it’s settled then.” He said as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.
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